Star Trek Lost Destiny: Book I: Race of Death
by Hemaccabe
Summary: An alternative timeline describing the character Saavik's ongoing career. Saavik and her new ship, the Ticonderoga, have been assigned to a sequence of routine but pleasant missions to help the new young Captain, her crew and their new ship learn the ropes. But dark forces opposed to the dream of the Federation and from Saavik's past will savagely challenge her!
1. Chapter 1

**Star Trek Lost Destiny**

**By Hemaccabe**

**Book I: Race of Death**

**Chapter 1: Conversations with Old Friends**

**ALL RIGHTS RESERVED**

(Author's Note: You're welcome to jump into the story and ignore my introduction, but I'm going to take a moment and introduce the project before you. As I write this, it is the Spring of 2019. I am a huge Star Trek fan, but I have to admit, Star Trek, as a franchise, is in trouble. My greatest love is for the Star Trek of my youth, the Original Series. IMHO, Star Trek peaked with Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan. It made sense at that point to have a sequel series. The stars of the Original Series weren't getting any younger. While the Rights Holders had many options, they went with a lame one, very slowly, ST: TNG. While I know ST: TNG was many Trekkers first love, IMHO, it was lame milqtoast compared to the red meat of the Original Series. The best I can say of ST: TNG is that it was better than the hot mess train wreck disasters that each subsequent sequel series became. Each a step down from the last. Lately, the very poor Kelvin timeline Trek has collapsed in time for JJ to ruin Star Wars. ST: Discovery, or the STD, which started strong, collapsed into a Mirror, Mirror disaster then got worse. Star Trek, as we know it, is in trouble.

Even as I re-watch the old OS episodes I needed to write this novel, I see flaws and weaknesses a younger, less critical version of myself missed. It gets harder to ignore that the tech that looked hyper-futuristic in the seventies, now frequently looks silly and dated. While some episodes are still amazing, many are simply difficult to watch, Spock's Brain, the Gamemasters of Triskelion anyone?

Of course, after the Original Series films, we did have some good options. A series about Captain Sulu and the Excelsior could have been amazing. Of course, doing something great that would make fans happy and themselves a lot of money seems to be deeply against the ethos of the Rights Holders who seem more bent on pissing fans off, destroying the franchise and impoverishing themselves. Whom God destroys.

I had a different idea. Starting in TWOK, I felt we started meeting compelling characters who could potentially carry forward a new series. The most compelling to me was the Kirstie Alley portrayed Saavik, explained in the novelization to be a half Vulcan, half Romulan. We also meet Peter Preston, nephew of Mr. Scott, who promptly dies. We also meet David Marcus, son of Kirk, who also promptly dies. I think they form the core of a series I would have loved to have seen, which I will call, Lost Destiny.

From the scene where Spock asks Saavik to take the Enterprise out of space dock, it felt so much like TWOK was to be, almost a pilot, where we were handing off the reins from our original crew to a new crew, and most specifically, a new Captain in the form of Saavik. Obviously, in Star Trek, this was never to be.

I consider the Original Series, ST II and III to be mostly canon to my story. I also consider Prelude to Axanar canon. ST: TNG and other series, happening long before or after this time frame, aren't particularly relevant.

Lost Destiny does have some significant differences. Peter Preston and David Marcus were not killed. Rather, they were badly injured. NCC 1701 is NOT lost at the Genesis Planet. I'll have author's notes throughout the story expressing my opinions on things, I hope you won't find them too annoying. This can be considered a separate timeline and reality. I hope you enjoy.)

After the defeat of Khan, Star Fleet Academy had decided that it was reasonable to move up graduation ceremonies and I was honored to graduate as Brigade Commander and First in Class.

I was assigned with Dr. David Marcus, a civilian expert, to USS Grissom and her mission to study the newly created "Genesis Planet."

We would spend two years carefully studying the mystery that was the Genesis planet. Every discovery we made seemed to only create ten more new questions. Still, they were good years.

I had made a decision, after Khan's attack, to try and be more myself. I knew I was more emotional and less austere than most Vulcans. Most Vulcans attributed these differences to my half-Romulan and half-Vulcan heritage. I did not agree. I thought it had much more to do with not starting to be raised as a Vulcan until age eight. I had also always been drawn to Human culture as well. At it's best, Human culture seemed like an elegant compromise between Romulan aggression and Vulcan stoicism. I had taken up things like eating meat, which I found I enjoyed.

I spent a great deal of time thinking about emotions and logic. Many think all Vulcans are identical emotionless machines. They are not. Many Vulcans would rather die than ever admit they feel an emotion. However, there is a vast variety of schools of thought within the Vulcan community. Generally, the writings of Surak are widely respected, but that respect varies from those who devote themselves to it wholly, to those who just think it's one of many good ideas. There are still many rivalries, almost never violent, but deeply intense nonetheless. I find that the rivalries can be just as intense between those who have very different ideas and those groups which are very similar, perhaps only separated by a single word of dogma, perhaps just the emphasis on a single word of dogma.

I think many Vulcans accept that they have emotions and use the teachings of Surak to control their expression. I considered that standard most appropriate. I wanted to be able to express an emotion from time to time while still maintaining a professional reserve.

After surviving the Klingon attack at the end of our time at the Genesis Planet, Dr Marcus went on to recover from his wounds at Walter Reed on Earth. I received new orders.

I would be assigned to the NCC 2003 Dreadnought and their engineering department.

(Author's Note: Yes, there is a canon list of Excelsior class ship names. Dreadnought isn't one of them. I know. First of all, I hate the list of names chosen for Excelsiors. I'm correcting many items in supposed canon as I write this story, this is one of them. The Excelsiors are clearly intended as a class of battleships. The appropriate naming convention for them would be to name them after prominent battleships from the various Federation species that will serve on them. Dreadnought is the name of a very prominent human battleship. It makes sense that there is an Excelsior named for her. I intend to explain the naming choice more in the story in the future as well.)

Initially, that made no sense, so I contacted my mentor.

"This is Saavik. I wanted to speak to you about my new orders if you have a moment?" I began.

"This is a good time. I'm just about to go on leave so I have a few moments. What's up?" Admiral Kirk replied.

Captain Spock has been a mentor to me, and the closest thing I had to a parent, since he had rescued me from Romulus. I could have gone to him with this question, but it was harder now. When I had been a student, and under his command, I could approach and ask him questions about school and my career. Now though, I was no longer under his command. Somehow, that made him more a parent and less a colleague. It was not logical, but it felt true. As a parent, I did not wish to disappoint him. I didn't want to whine to him and only wanted to give him good news. This didn't feel like good news.

Since the Khan incident, I had also begun to speak from time to time with Admiral Kirk. He had become my primary career mentor.

"I had been under the impression that I was on the command track for my career and that Starfleet understood this. However, I have been assigned to engineering on the Dreadnought?" I said, doing my best to keep emotion from my voice.

"Ahh, so you're wondering why you've been assigned to engineering?" Kirk quickly guessed.

"Well, yes."

"Saavik, you need to understand that the philosophy of Starfleet is that a Captain needs to have a strong understanding of the engineering principles that drive a starship. It's typical for young command candidates to be assigned to a tour in engineering.

"This is actually good for you. Those Excelsior class ships are now the pride of the fleet. Starfleet is expecting them to form the backbone of the fleet for the next twenty or so years. A time period that roughly corresponds to your career. Your engineering tour could have been on anything, a Miranda class or a garbage scow. Your tour being on the Dreadnought will help direct you to command of one of those ships."

In fact, while I had a certain fondness for a particular upgraded Constitution class vessel, my ambition was to command the highest prestige ship in the fleet, and that would be an Excelsior class.

Then Kirk continued, "There's also the advantage that they haven't worked out all the bugs on those Excelsiors."

"How is that an advantage?" I asked.

"If you were assigned to an older ship, like, say, that Miranda class, all their issues are long since ironed out and if they're not, no one cares. If you help iron out a problem or two on the Excelsiors, that would be a feather in your cap." Kirk explained.

"Why would no one care about a Miranda class?" I asked confused.

"There aren't many Mirandas left and they're only a short step from being de-commissioned. No one will want to pour scarce Starfleet resources into fixing a problem on the Miranda class. The Excelsiors, however, are brand new and likely to be built in numbers and depth. Finding and fixing a problem on them is something everyone will care about." Kirk explained.

"So then, this is good news?" I asked.

"Yes. Though, as always, you need to be careful." Kirk said.

"Careful how?" I asked confused.

"I did my engineering tour on a Constitution class ship which was brand new back then, same general situation. I did a shift and found that another officer, like me, on the command track, had made a small error. I corrected the error and followed regulations reporting it. I knew that other officer. He was a good officer and a friend. I also knew reporting his error would damage his career. It did. It blew him off the command track and I also happen to know, broke him as a man. I don't regret what I did but it was hard." At the end, I could hear the steel I had come to realize was at Kirk's core showing.

Getting to spend time with Kirk, I had realized he kept a happy, go lucky façade. It made him pleasant company. I had seen that facade used to avoid many difficult situations before they became crises and to charm the bottoms off a number of females, though not mine. I had also seen that his façade was a very thin veneer over a core of determination that was harder than diburnium. I often wondered if I had a core that hard?

"So, if I make a minor error, it could end my career?" I asked surprised.

Kirk responded, "There are no minor errors on a Starship. The error I found that day, if it had managed to be compounded, in very few steps, could have meant the ship was lost with all hands. But you shouldn't worry. You've always had a good head for regulations and procedure. Just apply that. You should be fine. This may be one of the easiest tours you do in Star Fleet."

So, I went with bonhomie to my assignment on Dreadnought. One amusing thing about serving on Dreadnought was the great amount of misunderstanding that many civilians had about the name "Dreadnought." They thought Dreadnought was a class of vessels larger than a battleship which was very silly.

Apparently, the confusion went back to a book from 20th century Earth about a silly science fiction story. The book showed a class of ships larger than the largest ship in the story and the name of that class of ship was "Dreadnought." However, the largest class of ship in the story was a Heavy Cruiser. The Dreadnought class would have been, presumably, battleships. This made sense, "Dreadnought" had been a famous battleship in Earth history. Unfortunately, the book had a typo and described the type of ship as a "Dreadnought." Many of the show's fans, being unsophisticated about naval nomenclature, were confused and thought that Dreadnought was a type of ship larger than a battleship.

(Author's Note: In case you missed it, the book in question is the Star Fleet Technical Manual and yes, the Dreadnought was supposed to be a battleship. Dreadnought is only a class larger than battleship in the minds of silly sci fi fans who are a bit ignorant of naval matters. On the interesting side, it's amazing how this meme has propagated, pre-internet, throughout the sci fi fandom community.)

This made sense for the science fiction story for the same reason the Excelsior class ship I was assigned to was named "Dreadnought." My new assignment was named after the early 20th century British battleship, Dreadnought. Dreadnought was an important ship in her time. Even though she would end up with little significant accomplishment in battle, she was a technological breakthrough. Dreadnought was so different from previous battleships, all battleships afterwards would either be known as pre-Dreadnoughts or post-Dreadnoughts.

I was whisked away on an Oberth-class ship oriented toward moving personnel and small cargo and delivered safe and sound to Starbase 23.

Starbase 23 is reputed to be an extremely beautiful base with many exciting diversions. I couldn't tell you. I spent the three days waiting for my rendezvous with Dreadnought in my spartan regulation quarters studying Excelsior engineering. I familiarized myself with schematics, diagrams, operations and procedures. I also took time to listen to engineering discussions of ongoing concerns about the Excelsiors.

The Excelsior class ship was the largest, most technologically complex ship ever built by the Federation, and therefore Earth-Human science. Many of her systems represented the first-time a given solution or technology had ever been tried on a starship. It was not surprising that she might have a few teething problems.

Those teething problems had been made worse by transwarp drive. The driving force in the development of the Excelsior had been the hope of an exponentially faster drive technology than conventional warp drive. Warp drive had slowly been incrementally improving for almost a century. Mostly by building bigger and more powerful engines attached to bigger and more powerful warp cores.

Like the steam turbine before had remained the basic unit of electrical generation for generations, the warp drive remained essentially unchanged. The Federation had seen that there were much faster drive technologies in the galaxy and was desperate to develop them. Something that would break the constraints of the warp drive and give radically faster performance for the same consumption of energy would revolutionize strategic options for Starfleet and presumably commercial development throughout the Federation.

Certain, now discredited, physics experiments had seemed to indicate that something called "transwarp" would be possible. The Excelsior had been built to use that new drive technology based on those experiments. The hope of transwarp had been what had finally wrung the budget from the notoriously stingy Federation Council to begin building a new class of starships.

Excelsior had spent over a year trying to get transwarp to work, with everyone sure it was just one minor technological tweak away.

Part of this was Captain Scott's fault. His sabotage of Excelsior to allow the theft of Enterprise had been the impetus of the idea that transwarp's failure was just some minor malfunction that could be corrected. After our return from the Genesis planet, I know Captain Scott had paid for his crime in the purgatory of being assigned back to Excelsior to first repair what he had broken. Then, when Transwarp still failed, they were sure whatever Captain Scott had done had broken something else. So, they spent an eternity searching for what would be known as the "Secondary Fault." Only when tens of thousands of hours of the incredibly precious time of Star Fleet's best engineers had been squandered conclusively proving there was no secondary fault, did they begin looking for the "Alternate Fault."

Over a year went by. A lot more of Captain Scott's hair turned grey. He gained weight. An internal source told me he had also started to drink more. His health suffered.

Three days after Starfleet engineering finally threw in the towel and pronounced that they could just not make transwarp work, a Professor Martinez and Scheinerman were publishing what would become known as the conclusive discrediting of the original Professors Putin and Tzi's transwarp theory. Two days after that, Federation law enforcement determined Putin and Tzi had actually colluded to create transwarp as a hoax and they were arrested.

So, a crew of over seven hundred on Excelsior had lost over a year of their productive lives. In addition, probably over a thousand of the Starfleet's finest engineers had wasted years of their lives. Starfleet, constantly so stretched for ships that she had sent Enterprise on a cadet cruise to be ambushed by Khan, could have had a capable new flagship in space serving useful goals for over a year, also lost.

The work to convert Excelsior back to conventional warp drive went relatively quickly and Excelsior was then out in space. However, thousands of complex systems had all been built and installed in Excelsior based on the expectations of what transwarp drive would do for the ship and how it would supply and remove power. The ship was like a vast four-dimensional jigsaw puzzle that had summarily had a huge section of pieces removed and replaced by another huge section of pieces which didn't all fit in just the same way.

Still, new propulsion systems had been installed and the Excelsior proved her value. Several new hulls, including the one for Dreadnought, had already been laid down in the hopes of transwarp's success. When the situation was reviewed by the Federation Council, the high cost of updating Constitution class ships with their continuing limitations versus the cost of proceeding with a new class of ships that was substantially better had resulted in the Federation Council grudgingly continuing to allow the construction of more Excelsiors.

I received a message that Dreadnought had arrived and would be on station to exchange personnel and take on supplies.

I immediately made myself presentable, packed my few things in a small duffel and proceeded to the docks.

A causeway had been set up between the station and the Dreadnought's secondary hull docking point. Despite my uniform, I still needed to show my credentials to the station guard at the beginning of the causeway and then again at the end to a ship's security officer.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Star Trek Lost Destiny**

**By Hemaccabe**

**Book I: Race of Death**

**Chapter 2: Meet the Captain**

**ALL RIGHTS RESERVED**

I presented myself at the causeway. Station security had to clear me to enter the causeway. Despite already having been vetted once, when I got to the ship's airlock at the other end of the causeway, I was faced with a ship's security chief.

"Permission to come aboard?" I asked in the standard formula.

The Security Chief who was standing post on the airlock checked his data pad, confirmed I was due aboard, then checked my ID. After that he smiled and then replied, "Permission to come aboard. Welcome to Dreadnought."

I smiled and crossed the threshold to my new assignment.

"Please wait a moment. Let me call a yeoman." The Chief asked in a way that was more a statement than request, so I waited.

A few moments later, an attractive young man arrived and asked, "Yes Chief?"

The Chief responded, "Yeoman, please show Mr. Saavik here to her quarters. Then take her to see the Captain."

The Yeoman replied to the Chief, "Aye Aye, Sir," then turned to me and gestured down the corridor, "If you would please follow me Sir?"

I nodded and the Yeoman led me to a turbolift which we entered. A few moments later found us on Deck 22. A few more minutes found us at my quarters. The room was small, but pleasant. I had a porthole and viewscreen. I knew this location would also be convenient to Engineering which I appreciated. As a full Lieutenant, I rated individual quarters, though I'm sure far more modest quarters than those of a Commander or higher rank. Still, the quarters on an Excelsior class were the latest and greatest Star Fleet had ever offered. They were also very new. I could have done a lot worse. There were ships where, even as a full Lieutenant, I might have had to share quarters or, even, hot bunk. So, these would be fine.

I threw my duffel on the neatly made bunk and was wondering how long I had before I was due on duty when the Yeoman, looking at his clip tablet, announced, "The Captain has an opening and wants to see you in just a few moments."

I would have liked a few moments to freshen up before meeting my new Captain for the first time, but I had freshened myself just a short while ago before heading over to Dreadnought, so I knew I was ship shape.

Still, I confirmed with a fast up and down, then followed the Yeoman at an almost quicktime pace through a sequence of corridors and turbolifts. Quarters that would be convenient to Engineering would almost always be on the opposite end of the ship from the Bridge and certainly were on Dreadnought. That didn't bother me much as I didn't expect to spend much time on the Bridge. I also didn't expect to speak with the Captain many times through my whole tour. Still, it was fairly normal for a Captain to want to meet the whole crew and new arrivals like me. Since, as an Excelsior, Dreadnought likely had over seven hundred crew, I would need to be convenient to the Captain, not the other way around.

The Yeoman took me to the deck below the Bridge where the Captain had his office. Then showed me the door and pressed a switch to open it. With a small bow and hand gesture, the Yeoman showed me in.

I walked through the door to see a well-appointed, but not ostentatious office filled with the trinkets one might expect to collect in a long Star Fleet career. Behind the desk sat the Captain, just finishing some notes between a clip tablet and his terminal.

He looked up and saw me, then smiled a warm smile.

I stood to attention and saluted. "Lieutenant Saavik reporting for duty!"

The Captain stood. He was a human with cream colored skin and receding black hair. He was still in fairly good shape, and filled his uniform well, but I could sense age was catching up to him. I also imagined the demands of sitting behind that desk he was at were also just starting to let his mid-section start to go soft.

Still, he returned my salute with a smile. Then he extended his hand and we shook as he said, "Welcome aboard Dreadnought. You come highly recommended. We'll get you kitted up with a proper uniform and all the necessary gear. If there is anything you need, or if you have any concerns, please don't hesitate to contact me. My door is always open."

Still at attention, I replied, "Aye Aye, Sir."

He nodded and continued, "You'll find your orders on the com in your quarters. Good luck. You're dismissed."

I nodded, executed a parade ground turn and returned to my quarters on my own. I only got lost once.

The next few days went by quickly. I found out where the nearest mess was. I got kitted out in an engineering uniform. I found that for the first time, I would have a small command.

I would oversee the work of one Ensign Karf and three enlisted. I called a meeting and established that we would meet in the nearest mess at the beginning and end of each shift. We worked twelve-hour shifts. Another crew, similar to mine, worked the alter-day. It would not be logical to call one shift night or one day. In space, there is neither night nor day. When we would arrive at a planet or station, it would be coincidence whether our shift or the other corresponded to local day or night.

I wore a white engineering uniform with a red collar as I was now assigned to engineering. I lived with a clip tablet in my right hand and, frequently, a Tricorder I in the other. When my Tricorder I wasn't in my hand, it permanently resided clipped to my left hip. I had a selection of frequently used tools clipped to loops around my midsection and a link in my ear at almost all times. My crew all had duties and it was my duty to oversee them. I had duties of my own as well. There was a set of converters, junctions and couplings that I had to check each day. Some just needed to be checked to insure they were in good working order, others had to be opened and closed or otherwise adjusted on a careful schedule.

The work was tedious, and it was also challenging in the way that running a marathon is challenging. No individual step would break me, but the accumulated steps were exhausting.

I realized another reason Star Fleet liked her command candidates to do a tour in engineering. Star Fleet had far more command candidates then engineers. While there were those who joined Star Fleet because they wanted to be engineers, they were in the minority. One of my enlisteds, Biku, was assembling training and certifications. When he had the correct assortment, he would be very valuable in the civilian employment market and would get to pick and choose from a number of lucrative positions in the Merchant Marine.

However, most who joined Star Fleet did so because, someday, they wanted to sit in the Captain's chair. By making us all do a tour in Engineering, they kept the engineering roles filled.

I knew I had to execute perfectly. Still, I did have a good head for regulation, procedure and technical detail. Things were going well. In my copious free time, I still made sure to work out every other day. I did boxing, standard hand to hand and joined the Engineering FPPSA club.

I had been doing the Star Fleet standard hand to hand training since I got to the Academy and was moderately good at it. When Admiral Kirk started advising me, the first thing he did was take me to a boxing gym.

"Why is this important?" I had asked looking around the standard hand to hand gym on Enterprise that had been converted for boxing.

"You have read about my missions?" Admiral Kirk asked.

Of course I had read about his missions. There was now a prepared text and course at the Academy covering the Enterprise's celebrated Five-Year Mission. In addition to achieving a 107% grade in that class, I had, like many other Cadets, begun to idolize Admiral Kirk. He was everything we wanted to be, explorer, scientist, diplomat and when called upon, the deadliest of adversaries. The last I had seen with my own eyes when we faced Khan.

"Yes Sir." I replied.

"I have lost count of the number of times success, which meant my life, the lives of my crew, my ship, perhaps the lives of every sentient in the Federation, depended on my ability to throw a good punch. I don't know every form of self-defense. However, as far as I am aware, there is no better system than boxing for learning how to throw a good punch. That doesn't mean give up on standard self-defense, but you should learn this as well."

The boxing and self-defense helped keep me fit. Captain Kirk had introduced me to FPPSA as well. Apparently, FPPSA or Federation Phaser Pistol Shooting Association was a popular pursuit in Star Fleet.

"Why do I need this in addition to regular small arms training?" I had asked Admiral Kirk puzzled.

"Regular small arms training will teach you how to shoot a target at a certain distance on a well-lighted, clearly defined range. That is an important skill. However, being able to use a hand weapon well is, like throwing a good punch, another of those skills I have repeatedly found is critical. The real worlds I found myself in rarely had situations where I needed to shoot a clear target on a well-lit range. When I drew a sidearm, I was generally fighting for my life, in uncertain light, against opponents who were moving, hiding behind cover and shooting back. FPPSA teaches that kind of shooting."

With my introduction to FPPSA, in addition to all my other activities, I had taken on one more. I was routinely getting only five to six hours of sleep a night.

On the ninth day of my stay on the ship as we came to the end of a long, physically grueling, tedious twelve-hour shift. My little command and I came to eat and have a final meeting in our local mess. We all ordered our standard meals. When the server opened for my plate, my meal was scattered all around the inside walls of the synthesizer.

"What happened?" I exclaimed surprised.

Ensign Karf looked over unfazed and explained, "Oh, that happens sometimes."

Ensign Karf then showed me how to submit a maintenance report for the synthesizer. I reordered my meal from a different synthesizer and placed an out of order card on the synthesizer that had failed.

I then did a bit of independent research on the problem. About once out of every one-hundred times, the synthesizers seemed to fail in the way I had observed. Which synthesizer seemed random. This meant the average crewman saw this problem about once a month. About once every thousand times, the failure was even worse, producing a toxic mess that required special equipment to clear.

Apparently, there was a full-time crew of three whose job was to clear synthesizers. They had special equipment and needed to work hard to keep up with failures throughout the ship.

I knew synthesizers failing was not a problem on Enterprise and Grissom, so it seemed something unique to Dreadnought. Further research showed that all the Excelsiors were having the same problem.

I decided right there, this would be my problem. I would solve the synthesizer failure issue. I knew it seemed small, but it wasted a substantial amount of food resources, required three crew full time to maintain and with the occasional toxic mess, had the potential to become a major problem at any time. If the toxic mess happened when the ship was in stress, like say in combat, it could be catastrophic. I also had it on good authority, there were no minor problems on a starship.

I started to examine every aspect of the food synthesizer system, looking for the weak link.

Unfortunately, I was so determined to solve the synthesizer issue, I got a minor verbal rebuke from a senior Engineering officer to mind my duties.

It was an important warning. Much worse might make my written record. A significant rebuke could mean the end of my Star Fleet career.

I had sent a written message to Captain Spock letting him know all was going well along with an image of me in my Engineering uniform.

I called Admiral Kirk and let him know everything was going well.

Admiral Kirk was comfortably seated in a recliner in his quarters on Enterprise with a glass of what I suspect was Romulan ale.

Our conversation wandered back and forth a bit until I mentioned, "I'm thinking of cutting my hair. I have enjoyed it, but really it just gets in the way each day as I crawl through Jefferies tubes and other tight spaces. The time it takes to care for and put up each day could be better spent elsewhere."

"I wouldn't recommend that." Admiral Kirk replied.

"Why not?" I answered, somewhat surprised. I had thought cutting my hair showed a willingness for self-sacrifice in favor of duty. I had been expecting a positive reply. Further, the long hair required time each day to maintain and then put up. As I was getting less than six hours of sleep each night on average, short hair seemed like an excellent place to save some time budget.

Admiral Kirk made a face as he obviously tried to think of a good way to answer my question. Then he finally began, "It would be nice if every challenge one had as Captain was resolved intellectually while sitting in the Captain's chair on the Bridge. It would have been nice if every adversary we faced would have been reasonable and prepared to resolve our differences through diplomacy in a conference room. Unfortunately, I rarely found that to be the case.

"As Captain of the Enterprise, I have needed to use everything, and I mean everything," with this he stopped and gave me a significant look, "I have to succeed in our missions. I've introduced you to some things like boxing and FPPSA. In many other situations, it was my ability to convince someone to do something based on physical attraction that kept us all alive.

"Not every species is going to care about your long hair. A Horta will definitely not be impressed. However, a remarkable number of alien species look fairly similar to humans and most of those think of long hair on a female as attractive. Someday, that could be a key advantage."

I have to admit I appreciated Admiral Kirk's answer for a whole different reason than he was offering it. There were a lot of details about his Five-Year Mission that had been glossed over because Federation historians thought them "inappropriate." Certainly, there were no references in the Academy library logs to Kirk seducing someone to achieve his goals. This admission on Kirk's part explained a great many things. At the same time, I was shocked. Was he saying I would need to use my looks to save my starship? That I should be some sort of galactic whore?

I managed to control my voice and said, "I find that answer very confusing."

Admiral Kirk nodded. "I know, it sounds like I'm saying sleep your way to success. I'm not. However, there were many situations where I had to do just that. I could have scrupled and refused but that would have meant losing the ship and her crew. For each time I went through with it, there were probably ten where I had to flirt to gain advantage. I have to admit, sometimes it wasn't that bad. Still, only you will be able to decide for yourself what you will and won't scruple when the choice comes. Should you rise to command of a starship, you have to be ready to accept that you will do anything and everything in your power to complete your mission, save your crew, save your ship. If you can't handle that, there are some very fulfilling careers available in Engineering."

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If you enjoy Star Wars and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three Star Wars novels I have written, all called Legend of the Harp also available on this site!

If you enjoy modern urban fantasy and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three novels I have written based on the Dresden Files universe of Jim Butcher, called Warlock of Omaha, Warlock of Omaha Squared and Warlock of Omaha Cubed!

This writer, like the storyteller in the market of old, now has a hat out hoping for a small gratuity. There is no obligation and I'm grateful you took a moment to read. However, if my writing has found favor in your eyes, please take a moment to go to:

Pay

Pal

.me

/hemaccabe

and throw in a little something, a dime, a quarter, a dollar, etc.

While I love to write, I do have a spouse and a child and a job and many other claims on my time that don't understand why I would spend so many hours banging on a keyboard. A small tangible return would help smooth the way to allow me to provide many more stories.

Please help. Thank-you.


	3. Chapter 3

**Star Trek Lost Destiny**

**By Hemaccabe**

**Book I: Race of Death**

**Chapter 3: Poker Match**

**ALL RIGHTS RESERVED**

I wasn't terribly happy with Admiral Kirk's advice but, for the time being, I kept my hair.

In the Academy, there is a mandatory one semester class on Admiral Kirk and the Enterprise's Five-Year Mission. The class is accompanied by a text detailing eight of his "most challenging" missions. Most Cadets were satisfied with that. To be a Cadet is to have a very busy life.

For the many Cadets, like me, who after the class came to idolize the already famous Captain, now Admiral, there was what was supposed to be a full set of mission logs one could review at the Academy Library with details that had been cleared only for Star Fleet personnel. The events one could review as a civilian were far more limited. Still, this left gaps as well. The mission logs satisfied the vast majority of Cadets.

Then, if one's hunger to know more about one's idol was not sated by the Library reports, as it wasn't by a small handful like me, there was a bottomless trove of third-party sources. Many, but not all, had come from interviews and things written by members of Enterprise's crew. Some were written by people who had met the Enterprise. One set of docs I particularly enjoyed were in regard to a Harcourt Fenton Mudd, who had managed to run into Enterprise during her Five-Year Mission on at least three separate occasions, and possibly a fourth. He had given several long, self-serving interviews and written at least one long set of memoirs himself. Most of Mudd's work was clearly self-serving and likely false but mixed in were salacious details Star Fleet was clearly not eager to see out and about. The question was, which was which?

The only thing someone like me could know for sure was that we didn't know the whole truth. There were no officially reported instances where then Captain, now Admiral Kirk had slept with someone to achieve Star Fleet's goals. Many moments looked suspect and what Admiral Kirk had just told me seemed like pretty strong confirmation that there had been times.

Life went forward.

On my ninety-second day aboard Dreadnought, while in my regular mess for the evening, just after I had gotten my food tray and was heading over to the table to join my small command, I noticed Captain Bacon was eating in our galley!

Dreadnought, like all the Excelsiors, has galley/rec rooms, like the one we used, throughout the ship. I imagined that the Captain would routinely use one convenient to the Bridge, his office and his quarters. That was when he didn't have his yeoman bring him a tray. I knew where Captain's quarters were designated on an Excelsior and they were close to the Bridge. That made sense, there was no more valuable time on a Starship than the Captain's time.

I was trying not to appear like some wide-eyed greenhorn and was making a casual turn toward my small crew when the Captain waived me over!

I smiled and nodded, trying to appear like this was something that might happen every day. At the same time, I was also very aware that I was still wearing my engineering uniform and that I was quite smelly and dirty from a long, hot, physically challenging twelve-hour shift.

I walked over and placed my tray on the table at an empty spot and sat down.

I had used my time walking over to see that at the table already was Commander Witlin, Chief of Engineering. We had exchanged an even more brief greeting than I had with Captain Bacon, though he was my direct superior. Around the table were also other senior officers I recognized from other departments in the Engineering neighborhood like the navigational deflector, Life Support and Shuttle Control. I was the lowest rated officer present. All the others were at least Lieutenant Commanders. I have to admit, I was a bit nervous.

Luckily, it seemed to pass that no one noticed I wasn't eating much and speaking less.

The officers regaled each other with stories from their past including an exciting one someone told about a much younger Captain Bacon wrestling an Orion Slaver to rescue a kidnapped crewman.

Then Commander Witlin threw in, "We haven't had a decent card game since this ship was launched. When do we get that going again?"

Captain Bacon nodded for a moment, then answered, "You're right. As much as we focus on technology, we can't lose track of the basics. Let me see."

With that, Captain Bacon pulled up a mini clip tablet, presumably to review his schedule. He hmm-ed to himself for a few moments then came up with, "How about Thursday at 21:00 hours?"

Clip Tablets came out all over the table followed by nods and grunts of assent.

Then, suddenly, for the first time that evening, Captain Bacon addressed me directly, "Great, Thursday it is and Lieutenant Saavik, why don't you join us as well?"

That caught me completely by surprise. I managed to get out, "I would be honored Sir, but that's during my duty shift."

Captain Bacon smiled, "I like to see dedication in a young officer. You have my permission to end your shift early that day. Test your absence plan."

It was standard practice to have an absence plan. An absence plan laid out how duties would be assigned in case a crewperson couldn't be present. If I, or any other member of my team, was injured or sick, our small unit's duties still needed to be completed. Particularly if I was not there, it would help Ensign Karf a great deal if there was already a plan laid out, rather than forcing him to create one there on the spot. Of course, one needed to use such plans sparingly. My team already worked hard. My absence meant they would have to work that much harder. Like most officers, I was determined to miss as little time as possible and to impose as little as possible on my crew. I knew a key principle of leadership was to lead from the front. Demonstrate that I wouldn't ask anything from my people I wasn't prepared to do myself. Which was why I was initially reluctant to accept Captain Bacon's invitation even though it was a golden opportunity to mix socially with senior officers, which was something even someone as sheltered as I was knew was good for one's career.

"Yes Sir." I replied and with that dinner was done.

My crew had long since returned to their own quarters, so I followed their example.

The next morning, they were all eager to hear what had been discussed at the Captain's table.

I explained about the card game. "You'll be in charge Ensign Karf, do me proud."

"Don't worry about me. You do us proud. Win a bunch of chips." Ensign Karf replied with what felt like real warmth and enthusiasm.

I nodded like I knew what Ensign Karf was talking about, but in fact, had no idea. I took some time that evening to do some research. Luckily, there was extensive discussion as to what to expect at such a card game on Fleet Net. I discovered they would likely be playing a game called "Poker."

I did some more research on what would likely be expected socially. I also reviewed the basic rules and strategies for Poker. Apparently, the normal arrangement was that there would be a set number of "chips" which would be evenly distributed. Then we would gamble for them with this Poker card game. I was reassured. The distribution of cards would be random. So, I would be as likely to win or lose as anyone present. Why Captain Bacon would consider this activity "basic" made no sense, but there were many things I still didn't understand about Humans.

The next day, Thursday, I left my duties early. I had pushed hard, trying to complete as much of my day's duties as possible to leave as little extra work as I could for my team, but inevitably, losing nearly half a shift, I had left some for slack for them to pick up.

Our normal shift was from 12:00 to 24:00. I was leaving at 19:00. Even though the game wouldn't be till 21:00, I knew I had some steps to take.

I got an early dinner on the way back to my quarters and ate quickly. I took a quick, but thorough shower. I then dressed in my best formal uniform, with an Engineering red collar. I took time to make myself presentable. I wouldn't be wearing my hair down completely, like it was some sort of romantic date, but nor would I be wearing it up as much as I might on duty.

My best friend Becky had shown me the ins and outs of makeup at the Academy. I didn't wear much but I knew a little could help a lot.

When I felt I had done as much as I could reasonably hope to accomplish under the circumstances, I made my way across the ship. A small rec room near the bridge had been set aside for us, benefits of rank.

I arrived just two minutes before the game was to begin.

Chief Engineer Witlin was the only other attendee present when I arrived. He welcomed me, "Would you like a drink?"

I thought he was offering some sort of punch, so I nodded.

He then pulled out a bottle of very non-regulation bourbon whiskey and filled a tumbler for me to the depth that seemed about two centimeters.

"Here you go!" He said handing me the glass.

I accepted the glass and sat at the table. I was very worried we would be discovered with non-regulation beverages. That is, until I saw every other officer arrive and accept a glass. Some asking for more. Including Captain Bacon!

I took a sip from mine and found it tasted very good, which was probably why people drank it, despite the alcohol content. I also noticed it made my stomach feel warm and very pleasant. I wasn't sure why, but I also noticed the constant stress I felt to perform and the intense amount of self-consciousness I would normally expect to be feeling in this situation were quite pleasantly muted.

Eventually everyone came to the table. There were three other Lieutenant Commanders in addition to Captain Bacon, Commander Witlin and myself.

Commander Witlin announced, "There will be one thousand chips. Each player will get one hundred sixty-six. The remaining four will be placed in the first pot. Buy in is twenty Credits."

Well, that seemed reasonable and no one else complained.

Then they dealt the cards. Through the evening, they played a variety of poker variants, but the most common was some version of something called "Five Card Stud."

This generally included three rounds of betting, where I mostly checked. Still, it seemed I rarely got the strongest hand and even in the rare occasion I won a hand, I seemed to earn few chips.

We went through three rounds where someone finally won all the chips and the remaining chips were re-divided. I didn't win the first hand once. I was the first wiped out all three times. It was somewhat embarrassing. Captain Bacon won the first and third time. Commander Witlin won the middle.

I also lost track of how many glasses of the bourbon I had drunk. Despite having lost so badly, I found I was still feeling quite good.

When it was decided to break up at 02:00, I tried to stand up. I found I was quite wobbly. I looked around and announced, "Sir, I must report something must be wrong with Stability Control. This room is spinning!"

I was very surprised when the room full of senior officers thought my critical report was very funny and laughed!

Commander Witlin announced, "Her quarters are close to mine. I'll make sure our young Lieutenant gets back to her quarters safely."

There were a number of good-byes and the group broke up.

Commander Witlin came around the table to me. I felt a little too wobbly to walk, especially with the way the ship must be tumbling. Strangely, Commander Witlin didn't seem to have any trouble at all. Was it possible he had extended experience in space emergencies? Very practical for a Chief Engineer.

"Perhaps it will be a bit easier for you if you hold on to me?" Commander Witlin offered extending his arm.

I gratefully took his arm and did find it seemed to help with the wobbly and the spinning.

Commander Witlin escorted me down to my quarters. During our walk, I noticed how tall Commander Witlin was and how fit. I was also fascinated by his thick black hair.

When Commander Witlin finally had me at my door I resolved to take a chance. I put my arms around his neck and kissed him!

Commander Witlin smiled benevolently at me, but pulled my arms down and said, "That's a very generous offer you're making, but Mrs. Witlin would likely not approve, so I have to decline. You get some sleep and this kiss will be our little secret."

I nodded but wondered what I had done wrong that Commander Witlin hadn't come in. I noticed my bed and thought it seemed like a good idea to sit, just for a moment, until the room stopped spinning.

I awoke the next morning and realized I had slept in my uniform. I also felt very sick. I just managed to get to my lav before I vomited up everything in my digestive system. I had to flush several times. I have to say I was surprised by just how much I actually had inside. I wondered if what I had drunk had somehow opened a wormhole into other people's stomachs so I would have more that could come up. Eventually though, everything I had inside to come up had. I knew because my stomach had other ways to proceed. I had to stay at the lav and dry heave for some time.

When my stomach finally settled enough that I could leave the lav, I realized that I had a splitting headache.

I called sickbay from the comm in my quarters.

The comm was answered by a bored looking nurse. "How can I help you?"

I replied with as much dignity as I could muster, "I'm calling to see if I should come in. I have been vomiting, and now I have a splitting headache."

The nurse looked at her notes and said, "I see. Have you had a significant amount of alcohol in the last twenty-four hours?"

"Yes." I admitted.

"All right. These are normal symptoms. You're having what's called a 'hangover.' You should have a bottle of analgesic tablets in the medicine cabinet above the sink in your lav. Go check." The nurse ordered.

I went. There was such a bottle. I brought it back to the com.

The nurse saw the bottle and said, "Good. Take two tablets. Get them down with as much water as you can keep down. You're substantially dehydrated. Don't try to eat or drink anything else for a few hours. Try to get as much water down as you can. If you don't feel better by lunch time. Call us again. All right?"

"Yes Ma'am." I replied trying and failing not to sound shaky.

Then the nurse dropped her formal posture for a moment and said sympathetically, "This is very normal. You just don't have much experience with alcohol. Try to hang in there Honey, you'll feel better soon."

I nodded and we closed the connection.

I took off what had been my best uniform and put it in the refresher for an extended refresh. Between sleeping in it and the vomiting, it was well crumpled and stained.

I took myself into the shower and gave myself a long shower. The analgesics and the water were already helping, though I hardly felt well.

After the shower I came out in a towel and thought for a moment. I was still very tired, and I still didn't feel very well. It would be really easy to comm Ensign Karf and let him know I would be staying in my quarters today.

After a moment of indulging myself. I got my regular duty engineering uniform on and made my way to the mess. I had already dumped half a shift on Karf and my crew. I wasn't going to dump a whole additional day as well unless I was dying and maybe not then. In truth, I rationalized to myself, if I really couldn't handle it, I could always leave early, though I knew I wouldn't.

Mess was very unpleasant. The smells of greasy food. The bright lights. The loud noises including the constant slapping of trays and plates. I almost lost my resolve.

Ensign Karf came in with my enlisteds. They could tell I was having a bad morning and were kind. We did a very basic meeting since I needed to know how things had gone the day before. We also needed to do a quick review for the day's shift.

The first good news I had gotten in some time was that they had done well in my absence. I was grateful.

We proceeded to our duties in engineering. Some parts of engineering are like a serene cathedral of muted lights and sound. Those were heaven for me today. Unfortunately, some areas in engineering are extremely brightly lit and filled with loud, unpleasant sounds I didn't much care for when I was well. I made a point through the morning of stopping several times to drink extra water.

By lunch time, I was feeling mostly decent and had a small amount to eat with my water.

About an hour after lunch, an announcement came over the loudspeakers in Engineering. "Lieutenant Saavik to Commander Witlin's office. Lieutenant Saavik to Commander Witlin's office."

It was only at that moment that I remembered what had transpired between Commander Witlin and myself at my quarters the night before. I dreaded what this meeting might hold.

Still, I summoned my courage and made my way to Commander Witlin's office.

I knocked when I got there, and the door slid open promptly.

Commander Witlin was sitting at his desk. He waived me to a seat in front of him.

I was mortified, but I sat.

The door closed and I saw we were alone.

Commander Witlin began, "I think it's safe to say after last night you don't have a lot of experience with alcohol?"

"Yes Sir." I replied.

Commander Witlin nodded and continued, "Then consider last night a learning experience. Luckily, nothing bad happened. However, I hope I don't have to paint a hundred scenarios for you. Like if you had kissed a subordinate instead of me. Especially one who didn't want to be kissed. Or had a different sort of judgement failure while on duty with a subordinate. Star Fleet already has all too many instances on record of inebriated Star Fleet officers, including Captains, having massive judgement failures on duty because of alcohol and other substances. I would particularly warn you that at diplomatic functions, alcohol and other substances may be served. Sometimes representatives of non-Federation entities actually try to use alcohol and other substances to trick Federation representatives into embarrassing themselves for advantage. You don't want to embarrass the Federation, Star Fleet or this ship. Your records say you're a Vulcan, I don't know how everything affects a Vulcan. I recommend you do some research."

"Yes Sir." I replied.

I didn't mention my "hangover" in response to the "nothing bad happening" comment. It seemed inappropriate. When Commander Witlin reviewed all the things that could go wrong from consuming alcohol, I thought I could not be more mortified, I found I was wrong. I imagined kissing Biku. The idea of someone using alcohol as a weapon disgusted me. The idea of embarrassing myself and others in a public way was simply too awful to contemplate. I decided right there I would never consume alcohol again.

Commander Witlin continued, "That's my official speech. Now for a bit of personal, friendly advice. You're doing an excellent job here in engineering. Keep it up. I'm also aware you're doing a lot to keep fit and improve yourself, that's great, keep that up too. I know you probably don't have an enormous amount of free time. However, we play ancient games like poker and three-dimensional chess not simply because they are fun, but because they also train the mind in ways that are particularly useful for a Star Fleet officer."

"Thank-you Sir." I replied.

Commander Witlin thought I was Vulcan because that's what it said on my documents. While the simplest thing for Federation documents would probably be to simply ask, "What species are you?"

Unfortunately, there is no polite and politically correct way to essentially say, "What race are you?"

Still, Federation papers do ask for Citizenship. For the vast majority of people that reveals species which is fine.

There is also a question, "Are there any specific details of your physiology that are unusual for your Citizenship?"

That's where, if you're a Tellarite with Andorian citizenship, you are expected to specify. That's actually been tested in the Federation High Court, that specific circumstance.

So, for me, I am of Vulcan citizenship. Romulan and Vulcan physiology are so similar, we could reasonably answer the second question, "N/A."

When filling out the form, I had been about to place "Half Vulcan, Half Romulan," on the form, when the, at the time, Captain Spock, put his hand over my hand.

"What am I doing wrong?" I asked confused. As far as I could tell, I was honestly filling out the form. It was what I had learned was proper to do.

"Your answer will cause unnecessary confusion and apprehension. Many will not understand the circumstances of your birth. You will cause unnecessary fear when those who see your documents see 'Romulan.' It is better if you simply answer Vulcan." Captain Spock replied.

"Isn't that a lie?" I asked shocked.

"The point of the form is to give useful information about your physiology. Romulan is similar enough to Vulcan that one may simply say Vulcan." Captain Spock answered.

I think he could see by my raised eyebrow that I was not convinced.

"Saavik, you still have much to learn. Communication is a tool to convey useful information. Lying corrupts the tool selfishly for all."

I think Captain Spock's reference to a lesson taught to children was something of a rebuke. Then he continued.

"We must also endeavor to share the most useful, least damaging information we can as well."

With that, the conversation was over. Captain Spock's tone clearly would tolerate no further protest on this matter. On my form went down, simply, "Vulcan."

However, all the flowery words and hallowed philosophy Captain Spock could muster still could not hide one basic fact. I couldn't put "Romulan" down on my form because I would face great discrimination and prejudice in the Federation for being Romulan. That did not erase that I was, in fact, still, half-Romulan and the knowledge that half of me was very unwelcome.

Star Fleet Academy was on Earth and predominantly human. Tellar Prime, Andoria and Vulcan all had their own fleet schools. While it's not unknown, it was unusual for me to attend on Earth. When people found out my Father was Spock, a former cadet and celebrity, they assumed he had a daughter with a Vulcan woman. I was still a legacy and one quarter human, so I was accepted.

Captain Spock had tried, on many occasions, to interest me in three-dimensional chess. I had found the exercise deadly dull. To make Captain Spock happy, I had practiced enough to be a middling player.

I hadn't run into poker ever before. I vaguely remembered serious poker games at the Academy but had never been socially connected to anyone who participated or inclined to find out more.

"All right. Keep up the good work. Dismissed." Commander Witlin said concluding our meeting.

I stood up, saluted, executed a formal turn and headed back to my duty station.

That evening I discussed poker with my crew. They all seemed very enthusiastic. Smith wanted to play that night. However, I was ready for some extra sleep. We did establish a regular Thursday evening time when we would play through a single set of chips.

Once back in my quarters, after my evening shower and changing into bedclothes, I checked and found Dreadnought's computer system had a variety of three-dimensional chess programs. I loaded one up, put it on the lowest level and promptly lost a game.

I was relieved that I hadn't ruined my chance for promotion and resolved again that I would run this marathon carefully and well, avoiding any errors that could compromise my career.

*** And now a word from our sponsor! ***

If you enjoy Star Wars and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three Star Wars novels I have written, all called Legend of the Harp also available on this site!

If you enjoy modern urban fantasy and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three novels I have written based on the Dresden Files universe of Jim Butcher, called Warlock of Omaha, Warlock of Omaha Squared and Warlock of Omaha Cubed!

This writer, like the storyteller in the market of old, now has a hat out hoping for a small gratuity. There is no obligation and I'm grateful you took a moment to read. However, if my writing has found favor in your eyes, please take a moment to go to:

Pay

Pal

.me

/hemaccabe

and throw in a little something, a dime, a quarter, a dollar, etc.

While I love to write, I do have a spouse and a child and a job and many other claims on my time that don't understand why I would spend so many hours banging on a keyboard. A small tangible return would help smooth the way to allow me to provide many more stories.

Please help. Thank-you.


	4. Chapter 4

**Star Trek Lost Destiny**

**By Hemaccabe**

**Book I: Race of Death**

**Chapter 4: Food Synthesizer Victory**

**ALL RIGHTS RESERVED**

So did my time on Dreadnought pass. Mostly I worked in Engineering.

Our Engineering FPPSA team won an all ship match, in which my performance did not let the team down.

I played three-dimensional chess against the computer. After doing terrible for some time, I actually read some instructional manuals and took some tutorials. After that, my performance finally started to improve. I still found three-dimensional chess deadly dull, but I began to appreciate how it was a mental challenge in defeating one's opponent not based on power or speed, but rather through thought and position. I realized how readily the skills one mastered in chess would apply in many real-world situations.

Our small crew poker games went very well. I studied poker a bit too and realized how much human perception and strategy were part of the game. I know a key component in Admiral Kirk's abilities was the way he could size up a person and modify his approach on that basis. The reason I had rarely seen him go home alone when we were out somewhere for the evening was the same reason that he had been so successful in diplomatic negotiations and in combat on many occasions.

I know my limited ability to empathize with others was a significant hole in my fitness to Command. Luckily, poker seemed to improve this deficiency in myself. It didn't hurt that I found poker fascinating. I mastered the probability and rules portion of the game quickly and then applied myself to being able to read my small command and make game decisions on that basis. As we approached the end of my assignment on Dreadnought, I was winning more often than I was losing.

One small activity I did just for silly fun was figure out which of my crew I would assign to bridge positions were we to have to take control of the ship. It was a foolish waste of time as the odds that we would ever have to take over from the highly experienced bridge crew were inconceivably small. Still, a little daydreaming was a pleasant diversion.

As we approached the end of my tour on Dreadnought, two issues were taking up more and more of my attention.

The first was that I thought I had finally found the answer to the food synthesizers. In many fictional accounts, I have seen characters solve such technical problems by developing a magical holistic understanding of the system and then having a mystical moment of insight.

My solution had come from endless hours of work and study. By dint of hard work, I had made myself an expert on the food synthesizer system. I had studied endless reports looking for an anomaly that would explain the failure.

I started to narrow down the cause by looking for a reason why the Excelsiors should be different from other ship classes. The elephant in the mess hall was the drive change.

Eventually, I determined that the food synthesizer system, to save on hardware requirements, had been depending on the transwarp drive's computer to reset their pattern buffers on a particular schedule. When the change had been made to warp drive, the new system had been given the same responsibility. However, this was not something the warp drive computers normally handled, so a kludge solution had been created on short notice to get the ships flying.

I found that the transwarp system, to save compute cycles, had been scheduled to reset the food synthesizer pattern buffers at the very lowest possible frequency. The original transwarp computer system contractor had built an elegant and efficient system for this task. The kludge solution on the other hand, was not resetting nearly as regularly. Further, as often as not, was taking longer between resets than the transwarp system would have. Each time the pattern buffers got overloaded, synthesizers failed.

The cause of the failure wasn't be detected because, by the time someone looked to try and see why the system had failed, the kludge system would have caught up and wiped the pattern buffers. This realization had not come from mystical insight, but by staring for hours at schedules for pattern buffer resets.

I had two solutions proposed. I had created a very basic modification to the kludge solution that would simply have them reset the pattern buffers twenty percent more frequently than the current system did. This solution would eat a few more compute cycles but the ship currently had a substantial surplus in compute cycles.

The second was that the elegant system from the contractor for the transwarp drive could be re-implemented with the new warp drive computer control system.

I made my presentation to senior Engineering staff, including Commander Witlin. I was incredibly nervous and assumed it would be rejected soundly. Instead, they stood up and clapped!

"Immediately institute your first solution." Commander Witlin ordered.

With a few key presses, I changed, at a fundamental level, the way the ship operated. For a moment, I felt the power that must be the appeal of a career in Engineering. After this experience, I realized I would always have a greater appreciation for the discipline. I also understood this sort of realization was another good reason to have command candidates work a tour in engineering.

After the change, there was a four day "test period." The synthesizer failures stopped. The three-man cleaning crew caught up on all soiled synthesizers and then got a well-deserved day of leisure.

Once again over the Engineering public announcement system came, "Lieutenant Saavik to Commander Witlin's office."

Once again, I made my way to Commander Witlin's office, this time to find a genuinely smiling Commander Witlin.

"Please sit." He began gesturing to one of his office seats.

I sat.

"At this point we believe you have solved the food synthesizer conundrum. You should know your solution has been transmitted to all other Excelsior class vessels where it has been implemented. They are experiencing results similar to ours. Good work.

"A commendation signed by Captain Bacon and myself has been entered into your permanent record. There are additional notes on the commendation from every other Excelsior class vessel Captain and Chief of Engineering. Well done."

At that moment a yeoman came in.

We stood. Then we posed, Commander Witlin handing me a framed certificate of my commendation while shaking my hand. The yeoman used a camera to take a picture which would later be published in the ship's online gazette.

Then we sat again, with me holding the certificate. The yeoman left to go about his duties.

Commander Witlin continued speaking. "The three-man team that had been cleaning the synthesizers will now be assigned to your command. You will still have responsibility for resetting any faulty synthesizers, but I don't expect that will happen often. You are to use the additional manpower to cover your current duties. I want you and your team to prepare an option to resume the original contractor's solution."

I had considered trying to reinstitute the original solution immediately. It would have clearly been the better way to go. However, it would have taken substantially more time, which I didn't have. It would also have delayed having any solution. It was clearly logical to have some solution now, freeing up three valuable crew on each Excelsior, than wait for perfect and keep wasting that valuable resource. Commander Witlin's response could be interpreted as an endorsement of my judgement and recognition that the second solution would require additional hours of crew/duty time to resolve. It could also be thought of as a very small promotion.

I sent copies of the picture and the commendation along with a letter to Captain Spock and Admiral Kirk. They both replied with short congratulations notes.

We welcomed the three new crew to our little group. Chief Chimu, the ranking member of the three immediately announced, "We are so grateful for the transfer of duty. That synthesizer detail was one bad duty draw."

I was gratified. Not every rescue comes from an exploding planet.

I reorganized our duties so that most of my duties and some of Ensign Karf's were assigned to our new team members.

I had a brief private sit down with Ensign Karf and explained, "I have removed some of your duties. This is because I want you to take a greater role in supervision and organization."

"Aye Aye, Sir." Ensign Karf replied with a salute.

Essentially, I was giving Ensign Karf a small promotion as well. This would be good as it would give him the opportunity to demonstrate he was ready for more responsibility and a real promotion at the end of his tour.

I went to work on the coding exercise that would be necessary to reinstitute the original synthesizer control solution with our warp drive management computer. It would be a small improvement but should be more reliable overall than the kludge solution that had been used. It would also use fewer computer resources, which were in abundance now, but which might be necessary someday down the road. In the short run, should the computer resource be diminished or under strain, say in combat, those computer resources could be necessary, and the kludge could still fail, possibly catastrophically.

We also had to consider the future of these ships. Which was an even more compelling reason to do it. These ships might be in service for twenty, thirty, forty or more years down the road. While they had surplus computer resources now, as the desire to upgrade in the future with heavy computer demand upgrades came, they might not. Further, it was relatively easy for an Engineer to see what had happened to the system now, in twenty years, as upgrades and bypasses and a hundred other things had been done with the systems and the greasy fingerprints of generations of engineers had been left all over the ship's systems, having the simplest and most efficient base now would be critical.

I spent my days standing at a com station near my crew in Engineering, available for questions and help as needed. At times, I would borrow time from one of my people to use their expertise to solve a thorny coding problem, at others, when they got behind, I might jump in and help them.

Of course, now with three new crew, my daydreaming about who would take what station on the bridge became that much more satisfying.

The other issue that came up as I was ending my time on the Dreadnought, was that the ship had been dispatched to Cestus III for a "Peace Celebration." The Federation and the Gorn had miraculously avoided all-out war at our first mutual encounter do to the actions of Captain Kirk during his legendary Five-Year Mission.

That had been the last moment of simple and clear diplomacy. At times, the Gorn Hegemony had refused all contact and at others, were reluctant to make any meaningful agreements.

Since first contact with the Gorn by Enterprise, the Federation and the Gorn Hegemony had managed an unclear Armistice. Among the few matters that had been agreed was that Cestus III would be a "Peace Planet," upon which both governments would be allowed to set up colonies and "Peace Pavilions." Functionally, Cestus III was fairly cold and dry, at the very edge of M class. Cestus III also didn't have much in the way of valuable resources. That meant that while both governments had built their pavilions, not much else had gone with them. The Federation had put down a small colony, mostly focused on servicing transiting ships. The Gorn had put down almost nothing. The Federation was now trying very hard to convince the Gorn to agree to some sort of trade agreement. The Gorn did not seem eager.

The Federation desperately wanted good relations with the Gorn. After all, the Federation, as a matter of principle, always seeks peace. The Federation's clearly stated end goal was that the Gorn might eventually choose to join the Federation as a member state/species. Further, the Federation was already surrounded by enemies, a whole new enemy in a whole new corner of space would be a real problem.

The Gorn, whatever their reasons, were more reticent. Most expert commentators opined that the Gorn Hegemony might feel like the Federation was trying to conquer them by diplomacy. The Gorn were a small power. Apparently, the Gorn Hegemony was composed of a homeworld and four substantial colonies. Beyond their five core worlds, they had a number of small colonies and outposts, mostly close to home. Beyond those inhabited locations, they claimed an unusually large region of empty, uninhabited territory as Gorn space.

The Gorn were also in an isolated portion of the galaxy and the commentators also thought they might fear too much cultural dilution from the far larger and more cosmopolitan Federation. There was also the simple fact that the Gorn were a "Hegemony," which was at odds with the Federation's democratic values.

I, more cynically, thought that those Gorn Hegemons might fear their subjects would become "infected" with ideas like democracy and didn't want to lose their cushy privileges.

Despite my cynical feelings, I still also wanted peaceful relations. I'm sure there were members of Star Fleet eager for action and swift wartime promotions. However, as one of those members of Star Fleet who would likely find herself on the line should that war break out, I was not eager for it. I had already been given two first-person introductions to war, first by Khan, then the Klingons. I remembered the blood, screaming and seeing friends permanently maimed and buried.

In addition, Gorn was on a bad vector for unpeaceful relations. Star Fleet had a pretty good idea of the size and capabilities of the Gorn military. If Star Fleet could mass all her ships and resources on the Gorn border, we could probably roll right over them. However, the Federation had a variety of other un-quiet borders including the Klingons, Romulans and Tholians. A war with the Gorn would mean we would have to strip those borders of ships and resources. One had to remember, measuring the size of available forces also included time. It could take months to traverse the distance from one side of the Federation to the other. The time those ships were en route, in terms of strategic military value, it was like they didn't exist. Even then, the forces Star Fleet might be able to mass could result in a long, bloody war, particularly as they dribbled and drabbled in from different parts of the Federation. Then one would also have to remember the danger of those other greatly weakened borders. The Federation's enemies were nothing if not opportunistic.

Considering all of the Gorn reticence and the high stakes involved, it was considered very good news that the Gorn had agreed to a "Peace Celebration."

Both governments would put up additional temporary pavilions and attractions on Cestus III. This would hopefully attract a substantial number of civilians to come and meet. These meetings would hopefully encourage exchanges in culture and increased trade. Each government would also send in a Starship as a "Display of Peace."

Star Fleet had chosen Dreadnought as her ambassador.

I was very nervous about this event. I had already had a good tour on Dreadnought. It would take Dreadnought two months to get to Cestus III, we would be there for two weeks, and then we were expected to turn back toward a more central Federation location. I didn't have exit orders yet from Dreadnought, but it would be logical to assume that I would debark at Starbase 18 as that would be just over three years for me on this tour.

Still, this would be Dreadnought's first port call in some time. My almost three years on Dreadnought hadn't been very eventful. Even with her powerful engines and the incredible speeds she could achieve, it often took months for us to proceed from one assignment to the next. Further, a great deal of a Starship's time was spent just being in a given area so that she would be available to respond should something happen. During that time, the ships would try to keep busy mapping, surveying previously unvisited systems and studying galactic anomalies. During my time aboard, Dreadnought had not been in battle, made first contact with a new sapient species or discovered some new amazingly unusual galactic phenomena. This was typical duty for a Starship which was part of why Enterprise and Kirk's Five-Year Mission had been so dazzling. It seemed like each month something completely unprecedented happened to them.

I had a lot to lose if something went wrong. Should my tour end without further incident, my successful performance would be a feather in my cap. Should something happen during this diplomatic event, and my performance be deemed inadequate, a commendation for improved synthesizer performance would not save my career.

(Author's Note: I've reviewed a lot of Star Maps of the Star Trek galaxy. Mostly, they don't agree and frequently leave important things out. I'm going to do the best I can. My apologies to anyone who feels I make a continuity error.

There are also a lot of versions of what the relationship between the Federation and the Gorn are. I think Saavik has given a pretty good version of mine.)

*** And now a word from our sponsor! ***

If you enjoy Star Wars and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three Star Wars novels I have written, all called Legend of the Harp also available on this site!

If you enjoy modern urban fantasy and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three novels I have written based on the Dresden Files universe of Jim Butcher, called Warlock of Omaha, Warlock of Omaha Squared and Warlock of Omaha Cubed!

This writer, like the story teller in the market of old, now has a hat out hoping for a small gratuity. There is no obligation and I'm grateful you took a moment to read. However, if my writing has found favor in your eyes, please take a moment to go to:

Pay

Pal

.me

/hemaccabe

and throw in a little something, a dime, a quarter, a dollar, etc.

While I love to write, I do have a spouse and a child and a job and many other claims on my time that don't understand why I would spend so many hours banging on a keyboard. A small tangible return would help smooth the way to allow me to provide many more stories.

Please help. Thank-you.


	5. Chapter 5

**Star Trek Lost Destiny**

**By Hemaccabe**

**Book 1: Race of Death**

**Chapter 5: Circuses and Bread**

**ALL RIGHTS RESERVED**

I took a moment to comm to Admiral Kirk.

"Congratulations on your commendation. That's good work. I hope my advice encouraged you in that direction." Kirk began.

"Yes Sir, it certainly did. Thank-you very much for your recommendation." I replied somewhat formally.

"So, what else is on your mind? I assume you didn't comm to get more praise." Kirk announced, demonstrating the insight that made him a terror at the poker table.

"Dreadnought is about to participate in a Peace Celebration with the Gorn at Cestus III." I began.

"Ahh, yes. The Peace Celebration. At first the Federation and Star Fleet had been considering sending Enterprise and me for that. Especially as I am now so conveniently back in command of a starship and the Enterprise specifically. Federation diplomats tried to get the Gorn to send the opposite number from our little initial diplomatic exchange. Unfortunately, the Gorn requested one of the new Excelsior class. Claimed sending a lesser ship would be insulting. Hence Dreadnought." Kirk volunteered.

"I didn't know any of that." I replied somewhat breathless from the revelation of internal Federation, Star Fleet and diplomatic knowledge Kirk's last comment reflected.

"I want you to be extra careful on this mission." Kirk ordered.

"Of course, Sir. They recently increased the size of my command to seven. I will watch over all of us to insure we do not do anything that could embarrass Star Fleet or the Federation." I replied.

Up till that moment, one of us getting drunk and having an incident of bad behavior, especially a brawl with a Gorn, had seemed the worst thing that could happen. Particularly considering my recent experience with alcohol.

"That is good to know but it's not what I was thinking. As I remember, you took the course about me at the Academy?" Admiral Kirk asked.

"Of course, Sir." I replied, not sure where he was going.

"Did you study the mission logs at the Academy library by any chance?" Admiral Kirk asked.

"Yes Sir." I replied again.

"Then you are familiar, to some extent, with my experiences with the Gorn?" Admiral continued to ask.

Once again, I replied with "Yes Sir."

"You are also aware with how many details of those missions are edited out as State Secrets or just hidden?" Kirk continued.

"Yes sir."

"At this point, the Federation and Star Fleet want very much to have peace with the Gorn. An admirable goal. However, it is my considered opinion, they are going about it the wrong way. They are approaching the Gorn as if they were humans. Very humanocentric, prejudiced and stupid. We should be studying the Gorn culture, determining how they go about conveying the message of a desire to make peace and doing that. What they most likely want is a show of strength. Bring a flotilla to their homeworld. Demand peace."

Admiral Kirk then moved onto to something even more interesting.

"So, the Federation has chosen to excise some of the details of my encounter with Gorn from the mission logs as they're not politically correct. The Gorn claimed, as their justification for their attack on Cestus III, that they believed we were some mysterious invader. In fact, their attack on Cestus III showed that they had carefully collected intelligence information. That information would have clearly showed them exactly what Cestus III was and that it was no prelude to invasion. The Gorn then used sophisticated impersonations of Cestus III personnel to lure in the Enterprise. Luring the Enterprise in for ambush itself reflected a sophisticated knowledge of Star Fleet and Federation intentions. The Gorn knew exactly who we were, what our intentions were and decided that rather than make peaceful contact, they would just massacre the innocent colonists, destroy the Enterprise and most likely, use the opening that created for an invasion of Federation space. Since then, even though they now seem to be interested in peace, there have been a number of incidents with Gorn 'Privateers,' which the Federation has been keeping quiet. The Gorn are a Hegemony. They don't believe in freedom. The Gorn people will likely always be hostile to the Federation until their civilization evolves, they develop a respect for peace and form a more open government. Treat the Gorn as you would any other hostile power. They will likely use deception and duplicity. Be ready."

"Yes Sir. So, it is the Gorn who are treacherous and the reason we don't have a firmer peace?" I asked.

"No, that is part of it. However, the Federation is also responsible to some degree because while the Federation's actions may seem very diplomatic and inoffensive, by failing to respect the culture of the Gorn, we are insulting them."

With that, our conversation ended.

I was very surprised by what Admiral Kirk had said. Still, I was a lowly Lieutenant in Engineering. I doubted there would be much I could do to catch the Gorn if they were up to something or change the course of peace negotiations.

It did make me think a bit about pre-emptive war. Many of the civilizations surrounding the Federation were, like the Gorn, aggressive and repressive. Still, they were also quite successful. The Federation was probably economically and militarily stronger than any of her neighbors, but not all of them put together. If the Federation continued to have a policy of fighting only in defense, that put her at the disadvantage. Star Fleet was scattered at any given moment across space. If, say, the Klingons wanted to attack, they could carefully assemble the forces available to them, mass them on the border and launch a pre-emptive attack at a time and place of their own choosing. The Star Fleet vessels there to oppose them would be outnumbered and outgunned. They could stand and fight, most likely losing and being destroyed, while not harming the Klingons much. Or the Star Fleet forces could run before the Klingons, probably for months, to a rendezvous with other Star Fleet ships where they might hope to make a stand. Federation worlds in between would be occupied or destroyed. Billions, perhaps trillions, of Federation citizens would suffer and die.

Logically, if conflict was inevitable, it would make sense for the Federation to choose the time and place. Still, I was but a humble Star Fleet officer. Mine was not to reason why, mine was but to do or die.

We arrived at Cestus III without incident. Commander Witlin sent down a memo to his junior officers like me with a list of duties that could either be suspended or whose scheduling could be extended to allow for participation in the Peace Celebration's activities.

This sort of memo was not unusual for a situation where the ship was at a place that afforded an opportunity for shore leave.

The opening ceremonies included having five hundred of the ship's compliment beam down to the surface. The crew would stand at attention while the Gorn ship's crew faced them across the broad avenue that led from the Federation Peace Pavilion to the Gorn Peace Pavilion. A series of floats would travel the avenue as a "Peace Parade." At the end of the Peace Parade, the Gorn crew, followed by the Dreadnought crew would march up and down the avenue as well.

The Gorn ship's name had been distributed to our crew as an audio file. It was an unintelligible reptilian growl that roughly translated to the action of taking a sudden biting lunge to kill and eat prey. It seemed gruesome, but a quick review of other Gorn ship names the Federation was aware of showed it was not unusual.

For better or worse, my team drew the short straw and had been assigned to stay aboard during the Peace Celebration's opening stages. Getting to stay aboard warm Dreadnought rather than standing pointlessly for hours at attention in the cold weather of Cestus III seemed more like some sort of reward. If there was any consolation, it was that the cold blooded Gorn would probably suffer worse than the mostly human crew of Dreadnought.

So, I remained working on an engineering console while my little team tried to cover as much of the regular engineering duties as they could.

From the moment we entered orbit around Cestus III, Dreadnought had assumed a standard geosynchronous orbit assigned by ground control planet-side. Dreadnought had been given a position of honor, directly above the festivities. Based partially on Admiral Kirk's warning and partially just on my own curiosity, I had opened a window on my display and kept a watch on the Gorn ship.

The Gorn ship was a rectangular cube. The front of the ship extended out as a wedge. The rear of the ship looked like it just been chopped off flat. The ship had four nacelles extending on struts from the upper right and left and the lower right and left. It seemed like an inelegant design, but practical. It reminded me of some Orion ship designs. It would likely be smaller than Dreadnought. With current Federation technology, I estimated the ship could be run with less than five hundred crew. Of course, Gorn were very different from humans and other Federation species. Gorn technology also seemed inferior. So, her actual crew compliment might be higher or lower, though based on the fact she would have five hundred crew on the ground and at least a few left on board, logically it seemed there were more than the five hundred.

Something I noticed quickly about the Gorn ship was that it had not assumed a standard geosynchronous orbit. In fact, it had assumed a highly elliptical orbit.

I sent a memo up to Commander Witlin expressing my concerns about the strange orbit.

Strangely enough, Commander Witlin had drawn the duty to stay aboard and command Dreadnought while Captain Bacon and most of her senior officers were planet-side. He replied in writing quickly and thoughtfully, "The Gorn ship is not a Federation ship and therefore is not subject to Federation regulations or authority. Further, Cestus III is not an exclusively Federation planet so we certainly can't insist that they do so. Gorn ground control could have given her that assigned orbit. Gorn ground control on this planet is supposed to cooperate with Federation ground control, so they are likely aware as well. Navigation says the Gorn ship does not appear to be on a collision course with any other ship present. I would also point out that an elliptical orbit such as hers might be very efficient over a planet with heavy traffic. It would allow the ship to still have easy transporter range on a schedule as well as to make maximum use of a planet's available orbits. The Gorn ship's use of an elliptical orbit could be an effort at courtesy."

Commander Witlin's reply made sense, but I still kept an eye on the Gorn ship during my shift. As I maintained my vigil, I noticed there was a moment when the Gorn ship would go behind the oblong, unnamed captured asteroid that was Cestus III's moon. Out of curiosity, I watched. For my efforts, I noticed just before the Gorn ship disappeared, she displayed a strange corona-like effect. Dreadnought didn't have any scanners active on the Gorn ship beyond simple optical scanners at just that moment. I replayed the moment a few times and couldn't tell anything with certainty. Was it something real, or perhaps just a space lighting effect? Light in space does not work the way it does groundside and can be deceptive to eyes evolved for ground illumination. Light in space could also do strange things to the optical scanners used to observe.

Having just been dressed down for my report on the Gorn ship's strange orbit, I was not bold enough to report a very hypothetical sighting of something that might not have been there.

I reviewed the Gorn's orbit and saw she would be going behind the moon again in seventeen hours. I put in a request that scanners be applied to the Gorn ship as it went behind the moon.

The next day, most of the crew was back at their stations. I arranged for my little team to have shore leave for a day. I instructed them, "It would not be appropriate to go down planet-side in your engineering uniform. Planet-side dress code is formal uniform. You may add a field jacket if you prefer."

My crew went down, did what they wanted, and came back happy. There was a lot of new chatter about drinking, eating, seeing pretty girls and boys. I even went down for a couple hours. I had to draw a new field jacket.

My last field jacket had been lost, along with all my other personal possessions on Grissom. I never had much. Mostly I had a Chuntarth bone fossil given to me by Captain Spock, a sack, a doll, some medals I had won as a child after having been rescued from Romulus and a few other knick knacks. They had all fit in a small duffel along with my regular gear. It had all been incinerated with Grissom by the Klingons.

They had been small objects mostly, of no significant value, just the tangible evidence of my efforts to create a decent life for myself, of the affection others held for me. Captain Spock would not have approved of me crying over them. Overt displays of emotion were always considered distasteful. In truth, they were only little bits, getting upset over them seemed illogical. Still, I had worked so hard to overcome my early childhood and with one callous act, it had all been burned away. I still somehow found myself crying over their loss sometimes late at night, when I was alone in my quarters.

That made me think again about my childhood. There was a custom among high ranking Romulan patricians. Force a captured Vulcan to have a child. First the captured Vulcan would be manipulated with drugs and coercion to be available to mate. Then, most generally the Romulan Father, would impregnate the Vulcan Mother. Though it was known to be done the other way as well.

This behavior, likely in addition to satisfying extraordinarily vile and perverse appetites, represented a Romulan philosophy of imposing Romulan-ness on those they conquered. The Romulans saw this imposition as somehow being a noble calling. On non-Romulan worlds that had been conquered by the Romulans, this sort of imposing was done using force and the power of the Romulan state. Erasing the local culture and forcing the beings present to adhere to an alien, and quite likely poorly fitting, culture.

Imposing this Romulan-ness on those not conquered was perceived by the Romulans as some sort of counting coup. A cultural step toward conquest. This dovetailed with a strong current in Romulan culture that desired to dominate all around and considered sexual domination a key ingredient to that goal. Sexual domination and enhanced genitalia were a common motif in publicly displayed Romulan art.

The children of these unions, made with such great efforts, were still considered undesirable mongrels by Romulan society. The half-breed children, once they had served their purpose, would be dealt with by being dumped to the streets to survive on their own as best they could. I had been one such child.

During my eighth year, then Ambassador Spock, learning of our existence, led a movement to rescue the lost Vulcan children. As many such children as could be found were rescued, including myself, and brought to Vulcan. Ambassador Spock set an example by adopting one of the children himself. As luck would have it, that was me.

If I could find the Romulan parent who was the author of such an evil abomination, I would gladly have torn him apart, limb from limb. My disgust with this action, and my desire to protect against it ever happening again, had been a leading reason why I, as a child, developed a wish to join Star Fleet.

I expressed this desire to Ambassador Spock. I thought he would approve. Instead he replied, "The quest for revenge is illogical. However evil the actions were that brought you into existence, they have given us the beautiful wonder that is you."

Ambassador Spock was not given to excessive flattery or verbal affection. It was one of the few times in my life he had called me something like a "beautiful wonder." I treasured that moment.

It was difficult to assimilate into Vulcan society. I had lived on my own for almost eight years. Surviving in the cold wet alleyways of Remus. Scrounging for food from trash bins. Scavenging for rags to use as clothes. It had taken me a long time to learn that when I was presented with food, I didn't need to steal as much as possible and hide it away, so I wouldn't starve later.

I had been doing this for some time after being brought to Vulcan. I think I was even aware that it was unseemly but did not care as the need to hoard food was absolutely linked to survival. One evening, after having been presented with a nutritious and tasty dinner, sitting at the table in Ambassador Spock's warm and comfortable kitchen, I had eaten a small amount, but hid most of it on my person under my blouse, afraid that I would, once again, have to fend for myself on the streets.

Ambassador Spock watched me steal the food and said, in his normal quiet even tone, "It is illogical to try to keep food in that manner. You will have enough food tomorrow, the next day and the next, forever."

I gritted my teeth and looked back fiercely, expecting that he, like other Vulcans who had caught me stealing food would try to take the food away from me by force. Eight years of fighting for scraps had trained me to be prepared to fight fiercely.

Instead, Ambassador Spock did something I completely did not expect. He went back in the kitchen and brought out more food. Then he placed it in front of me. Once again, I stole most. Ambassador Spock went back in the kitchen two more times and brought me two more plates of food. Each time I stole more. Eventually, my blouse had a huge unwieldly bulge in it revealing the large amount of food I now had hidden there.

With the fifth plate of food, Ambassador Spock did another completely unexpected act, he brought out a practical carry satchel and a supply of food storage bags. The carry satchel had a built-in cooling feature that would help it keep stored food fresh.

"If you wish to keep food, please use this satchel and those bags. It will be much neater. The food will stay edible longer and it will be less likely to attract insects. Consider the satchel a gift." Ambassador Spock explained.

The food under my blouse was a mess. I quickly put it in bags and in the satchel.

"No one will take that satchel from you. You may keep it as long as you like. However, at this point, I would like you to take a bath and clean yourself. While you are in the bath, I will wash your clothes."

My blouse was now badly stained.

I took the satchel with me to the bath. I handed my clothes back out of the bath to Ambassador Spock and he had washed them. No one ever tried to take the satchel from me. When I had eaten the food in the satchel or it had spoiled, Ambassador Spock would give me more, so my satchel was always full. The satchel meant I was secure. I wouldn't be hungry again. Eventually, I learned I didn't need to keep the satchel with me at all times because I could expect food would arrive on a regular schedule without. I learned it was safe to leave the satchel in my bedroom and it would still be there when I got back. Eventually, I even realized I didn't need to keep it full of food. I had kept the satchel though; it was a gift and it was a physical symbol of the safety I now enjoyed on Vulcan which had been so absent on Remus. I had then used the satchel to go on picnics with friends, fellow students at the Academy and lastly with Dr. Marcus. The satchel would remain full of many happy memories. It had become more important as a tangible connection to my dead Father.

The satchel had been atomized with Grissom.

*** And now a word from our sponsor! ***

If you enjoy Star Wars and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three Star Wars novels I have written, all called Legend of the Harp also available on this site!

If you enjoy modern urban fantasy and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three novels I have written based on the Dresden Files universe of Jim Butcher, called Warlock of Omaha, Warlock of Omaha Squared and Warlock of Omaha Cubed!

This writer, like the storyteller in the market of old, now has a hat out hoping for a small gratuity. There is no obligation and I'm grateful you took a moment to read. However, if my writing has found favor in your eyes, please take a moment to go to:

Pay

Pal

.me

/hemaccabe

and throw in a little something, a dime, a quarter, a dollar, etc.

While I love to write, I do have a spouse and a child and a job and many other claims on my time that don't understand why I would spend so many hours banging on a keyboard. A small tangible return would help smooth the way to allow me to provide many more stories.

Please help. Thank-you.


	6. Chapter 6

**Star Trek Lost Destiny**

**By Hemaccabe**

**Book 1: Race of Death**

**Chapter 6: Time for a Real Choice**

**ALL RIGHTS RESERVED**

Seventeen hours later I got a report back from scan that had somewhat better resolution. In an attached audio file, a junior scan officer commented in a bored voice, "The corona effect may have been caused by interaction with the moon's magnetic field."

I checked. The moonlet was too small, it had no magnetic field. No other known phenomena could have caused the corona.

It was not a very useful bit of scan interpretation, but part of the problem was that the moonlet was still between Dreadnought and the Gorn Ship.

In the old days, if I had a problem like this, I would have gone to Becky. Becky and I had been assigned to share a dormitory room when we came to Star Fleet Academy. I thought back.

Thud. Becky landed on her back. I think I heard some air come out. We were in self-defense training gis in one of the Academy gyms set up for training.

"C'mon Becky, you have to get up so we can try that again." I said with a smile.

Becky closed her eyes, "Not again!"

No one who makes it to Star Fleet Academy is a remedial student. However, in terms of the Academy, Becky's academics and her physical disciplines were weak. She clearly had not spent a great deal of time physically preparing herself or studying a Martial Art as Ambassador Spock had insisted I study Suus Mahna religiously.

Becky shouldn't have called out so loudly, it attracted James, a very fit upperclassman who seemed to relish torturing Becky.

"On your feet plebe!" James ordered coldly.

Becky drug herself up off the mat.

"Sir, I'm working with her to improve her self-defense…" I began.

James looked at me coldly, "At attention plebe."

I snapped to.

Then, without warning, James repeated the move I had just shown Becky on her again. I had let her drop from knee level, James dropped her from his, much taller, shoulder height. Becky hit the mat again much harder.

James looked at Becky and said, "You'll have to do better than that plebe."

Then, as he walked off, James casually said, "As you were."

Becky was really sore after that, but with a look of harsh anger after James, she said to me, "Let's keep going."

We continued to work together, and I explained as we practiced different holds and throws, "Star Fleet Self-Defense is a standard system of physical hand to hand combat taught to Star Fleet personnel. Some Star Fleet personnel master the required basics and leave it there. Many try to get somewhat better. A few push it hard. Personnel in Security tend to be among those who push it the hardest as they perceive hand to hand combat as a key part of their service."

What I didn't say was that since my idol, Kirk, had worked much harder than most on self-defense, I would too.

Kirk had been my idol since I took the Academy class on him, he was the ideal I aspired so desperately to be. I had a terrible crush as well. The fact that one might see Admiral Kirk exercising in the gym with old security hands might have been part of why I was willing to work extra with Becky.

At that point we paused and I was pleased, Becky had clearly mastered a hold.

As we continued, I resumed my lecture, "Star Fleet Self-Defense goes by many names including Standard Hand to Hand. It's based on a number of Old Earth martial arts including Judo, Taekwondo and Karate. All Old Earth martial arts got a bit mixed up during the last World War and the subsequent confusion."

Becky's academics and self-defense might not have been the best, but when it came to understanding the unspoken social currents and where to shop for clothing, make up or how to order a coffee, she was a master.

We continued our training, James tortured Becky, Becky improved, my lectures went on, "There is only so far one can go with Star Fleet Self-Defense as it was never meant to be a full martial art, but rather, just some basic self-defense. However, as Star Fleet Self-Defense comes from a variety of older martial arts, one can delve more deeply into those precursors and easily combine that new knowledge with the basics. This makes the study of Star Fleet Self-Defense essentially bottomless."

After training Becky took me out shopping.

"Why are we wasting time on this?" I asked as we wandered from store to store.

"You need a new outfit for 'Monthly Social Evening.'"

Monthly Social Evening was an evening each month where we had the opportunity to show up and be social. Many cadets loved it. I knew many took it as an opportunity to, "Hook up." I hated it as a waste of time.

Then in the next store she found a little black dress. "You need to try this on," she said brusquely.

I rolled my eyes, but I tried it on. Yes, I looked amazing in it and, at Becky's insistence, I purchased it.

We became best friends. She was like the sister I never had. She brought me home to spend time with her family. She guided me gently through the social currents which were invisible to me. I tutored her in academics and worked with her on her Star Fleet self-defense.

I avoided being isolated and despised. Becky got good grades.

Eventually, a day came as I worked with Becky on her self-defense, James came up again to torture her.

James moved in, but this time, Becky was ready, she grabbed the arm James was lunging with, spun him around and had him eating mat! James had to tap out!

After that, James started hanging out with us. He attended MSE with us. I noticed that the little black dress, makeup and other coaching Becky gave me were critical to helping my cold Vulcan demeanor make social connections at MSE. Those social connections were eventually critical to my success becoming Brigade Commander.

I noticed that James and Becky had also become close.

At one point I heard James explaining, "I knew that if I just left you training with Saavik, you would have never been motivated enough to pass. Hating me helped you develop the skill you needed to pass, and maybe someday, survive."

After James graduated, he had proposed to Becky, who in violation of regulations, had secretly accepted.

I had told Becky about my desire to be a Captain one day. She replied, "Oh no, not me, I'm gonna go for astrogation."

"Why?" I had asked. Completely baffled at how someone could not wish to be captain.

"Being Captain is just a lot of responsibility. All the interesting stuff happens in Astrogation, so I'll just do that."

During her Academy studies, Becky had been accredited a Master Astrogator. The essence of astrogation was using sensors to investigate space objects. Becky would have known about what was going on with the moonlet. She would have given me an expert reading of the scans. Now, thanks to Khan, I was working without her.

There were a lot of reasons why the Gorn ship could have been exuding that corona. I needed more data. I looked at my options.

There was a scanner from the planet's Space Route Traffic Control on the other side of the moonlet which could get a good look. However, that scanner was dedicated to outbound scanning, it wouldn't be looking down on the moonlet. I could, in theory, send a request up the chain of command to have that scanner turned around. There was no way, even if it was approved at each step, that the scanner would be ready in time and the Gorns would not be notified.

Justifying my decision to reset the scanner and have it looking down where the Gorn ship would be in seventeen hours, by saying to myself that I was just saving them all the time and trouble of considering so minor a request, I accessed the Cestus III Space Route Traffic Control system and reprogrammed the scanner satellite.

Seventeen hours later, I got a good look.

The Gorn ship was definitely extruding some kind of energy corona onto the moonlet. I analyzed the energy and determined that, if it could be focused into a column, the energy could be some sort of weapon. It was some sort of ionized energy. It wouldn't hit like a phaser, disruptor or even an old-fashioned plasma weapon. After running a number of simulations, I determined it had the possibility, particularly if a target ship's shields were down, of rendering a large portion of that ship's crew unconscious.

The final stage of the Peace Celebration was for the Dreadnought and the Gorn ship to jointly go and survey a useless rock in the Cestus system's asteroid belt.

I had asked Commander Witlin about the survey when we shared lunch at the mess. "Why are we using two of the most capable and expensive ships in our respective fleets to go and survey what looks to be a valueless rock. A survey that could be done by a cheap robot probe?"

Commander Witlin replied patiently, "It's not necessarily the scientific knowledge we're after here. The Federation and the Gorn are demonstrating to each other that we can be partners in scientific exploration. This sort of symbolic display is typical of diplomacy which is often based much more on emotion than practical considerations."

I had a bad feeling about this. I believed cultures made peace because both saw logical gain, not for emotional reasons. I was sure such an opinion would not be well received by a human, so I kept my mouth shut except to say, "Thank-you Sir."

Seventeen hours later, Dreadnought was accompanying the Gorn ship flying in formation on our cruise to the minor asteroid. Our course would take us between the moonlet and the Gorn ship. At this point, in what was a moment of perfect timing for the universe, or something that had been engineered by the Gorn, the moonlet had gotten some energy from a solar storm and was arcing bolts of harmless electrified plasma up to the ship in a way that would perfectly hide their corona if it was used as a weapon.

Of course, Dreadnought's shields were down. Raising our shields would be far too hostile a gesture.

I watched the Gorn ship through the window on my monitor and, just when I expected at exactly seventeen hours, a column of ionized energy extended from the Gorn ship and hit Dreadnought near the Bridge on the Primary hull.

I immediately comm'ed up to Commander Witlin, "I believe the Gorn have just fired some sort of weapon against our ship. At the Bridge specifically. We need to take action!"

Commander Witlin replied with an annoyed tone, "I'm not sure where all these warnings are coming from. The ship has not been hit with a weapon. Stand fast to your post. That's an order."

Admittedly, the corona weapon did not hit like a normal weapon. The ship had not shuddered like it had just been hit by a disruptor cannon. Unless one was looking for it, one wouldn't see the indicators that already showed the ship was drifting.

I could see energy levels had dropped on the Gorn ship, but they were already rising and the Gorn ship was turning to face us.

There were a lot of possibilities here and I had a lot to lose.

After my last Cadet cruise on Enterprise, I was gratified to graduate as Brigade Commander and first in my class from Star Fleet Academy. Most Cadets graduate as Ensigns. Sometimes, leading Cadets are given a bump to Lieutenant Junior Grade. How many will get the bump, if any, is not determined or announced before graduation. I had reviewed the records. In the last fifty years, the largest number of Cadets given the bump was four, but that was during the Four Years War. The most common occurrence was one, the second most common was none.

When I received my diploma and orders, I had been gratified to see that I had been graduated with the bump to Lieutenant Junior Grade. My orders were to join Dr. David Marcus on Grissom and assist him in studying the new Genesis Planet.

Most commonly, promotion will come for an officer after the successful conclusion of a standard three-year tour.

After a typical three-year tour, an officer isn't guaranteed a promotion. Not getting promoted doesn't even preclude an officer from achieving command. Frequently the failure to gain promotion has been based more on budgetary constraints, than failure to perform. Certainly, missing a promotion isn't good, but most Star Fleet Captains can point to a tour or two where they didn't get promoted.

However, after just two years on Grissom, and the functional end of that tour due to the destruction of the Genesis planet and the Grissom, I had been promoted to full Lieutenant. That made me one of the youngest Lieutenants in the fleet.

Here on Dreadnought, I'd already earned a commendation. My time here was almost done, completed without major error. There were no guarantees, but I was likely to be promoted again to Lieutenant Commander. I would probably be assigned to be Chief of Navigation on another ship, a command track position. With success, after that tour, I would be promoted to Full Commander, Chief of Navigation and First Officer on my following tour. That would put me in position for the big seat during my subsequent tour.

It was possible I had made a mistake in my assessment of the situation. What if I was wrong about the magnetic fields on that moonlet? It would be reasonable to assume that Commander Witlin had more information than I did. Perhaps there was some sort of crises for which he needed me to stand fast of which I did not know? I had received a clear and direct order from my immediate, command superior. My only option would be to disobey a direct order and run to the Bridge. If I guessed wrong, not only would my career be destroyed, I could face court martial. Strangely, this all left a taste in my mouth not unlike the feeling I had when I took the Kobiyashi Maru test.

*** And now a word from our sponsor! ***

If you enjoy Star Wars and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three Star Wars novels I have written, all called Legend of the Harp also available on this site!

If you enjoy modern urban fantasy and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three novels I have written based on the Dresden Files universe of Jim Butcher, called Warlock of Omaha, Warlock of Omaha Squared and Warlock of Omaha Cubed!

This writer, like the storyteller in the market of old, now has a hat out hoping for a small gratuity. There is no obligation and I'm grateful you took a moment to read. However, if my writing has found favor in your eyes, please take a moment to go to:

Pay

Pal

.me

/hemaccabe

and throw in a little something, a dime, a quarter, a dollar, etc.

While I love to write, I do have a spouse and a child and a job and many other claims on my time that don't understand why I would spend so many hours banging on a keyboard. A small tangible return would help smooth the way to allow me to provide many more stories.

Please help. Thank-you.


	7. Chapter 7

**Star Trek Lost Destiny**

**By Hemaccabe**

**Book I: Race of Death**

**Chapter 7: Not Going to Back Down**

**ALL RIGHTS RESERVED**

The Kobayashi Maru test had been so galling on so many levels. I had taken endless tests and performed in endless simulations by that point in my time at the Academy. I had received perfect scores in all of them. This final test was the only one to be directly overseen by Admiral Kirk. In addition to my general need to have a positive outcome on what was effectively, my final exam at the Academy, I was desperate to impress my idol. Then it had gone the way it had gone. I could still taste that incredibly bitter bile flavor I'd had in my mouth that day. If I ran from my post, I could be sacrificing my entire Star Fleet career. Certain defeat.

I had a difficult decision to make.

In the end, there was only one logical choice. There could be no more Beckys.

I stood up and addressed my crew. "Follow me. Double time!"

I then ran from Engineering at full sprint. I did not look back, but I knew my crew was following me.

We raced for the first turbo lift. We lucked out and just caught the lift as it had already been summoned. We boarded the lift swiftly and got carried up to the primary hull, where the line on this turbo lift ended. We exited and sprinted for the next. Everything was eerily normal. Officers and crew went about their duty. There was no red alert.

The second turbo lift took us to the Bridge. We exited the lift to find everyone on the Bridge unconscious and incapacitated!

"Ensign Karf, take Helm. Chief Chimu to Science/Scan. Biku to Comms. Computer, note in the Ship's Log that as of this moment, I, Lieutenant Saavik, take the Con. Red Alert." I began snapping off orders.

I distributed my other crew to secondary stations around the Bridge. I had sent Ensign Karf to Helm as he had graduated from the Academy. He might not be Captain Sulu, but he should be at least basically competent. The other postings were based on skills I had read in their files and I had seen them perform.

As Ensign Karf got in the seat for Helm and I took the Captain's chair, noting Captain Bacon lying on the floor to the right, unconscious or dead. I kept giving orders, "Helm, raise shields and bring us about to face the Gorn ship. Comms give me ship wide."

Ensign Karf was first, "Shields up. Coming around."

Biku came next, "You're on ship wide Sir."

"Medical teams to the Bridge. Damage Control parties to all decks. All personnel prepare for combat. This is not a drill." Then I used the button on the Captain's chair to cut ship wide.

"Helm, charge phasers, load photon torpedoes and lock on the Gorn ship. Comms raise the Gorn ship." I kept going.

This time, while Ensign Karf was flipping unfamiliar switches as fast as he could, Biku came back first. "Comm channel open to Gorn Ship."

"Put them on the main screen." I ordered.

Until that moment, we had the Gorn ship on the main screen and it had obviously already turned to attack. With my order, a view of their Bridge appeared, with a single large Gorn, in the front, to the left. I think he was the Captain of their vessel, but I'm ashamed to say the Gorn all looked too much alike for me to be sure.

I addressed the Gorn, "This is Dreadnought. Our ship is manned and ready for combat. If you fire now, we will attack and not stop until your ship is destroyed. If you do not wish to die, move off immediately!" I announced with all the bravado I had and then used the Captain's chair armrest button to cut them off again, just as the Gorn Captain was saying, "What is the meaning of this? We are not intim…"

"Scan, Gorn ship status."

Chief Chimu announced after a critically long second as he worked unfamiliar controls, "Gorn ship has weapons powered and shields up, but is moving away."

After that, it was all a bit anti-climactic.

A medical team reached the Bridge and started treating the crew. They all came to, but it was decided they had best all take a moment down in sickbay. Except for Captain Bacon, who demanded a report before he left. I gave a succinct rundown of events. He replied, "Good work Lieutenant."

Damage control parties found other unconscious crew on a number of the primary hull's upper decks. Medical teams were routed to them. Commander Witlin arrived on the Bridge.

I looked at him and said, "My apologies Sir. Do you wish to take the Con?"

He nodded sardonically and replied, "Considering the circumstances, no apologies are necessary. Also, you're doing very well with the Con, I think you should keep it for now. With your permission, I'll take the Engineering station here on the Bridge."

"Permission granted. Please conduct a review of the ship for any damage by the Gorn weapon."

Commander Witlin nodded and took his post.

I went to Biku at Comms and coordinated for bit to make sure we kept good records of the event. By then, a real replacement helmsman had arrived. I transferred Ensign Karf to navigation which I had left open.

"Plot a course for Cestus III. Helm take us there at full impulse. Put us in orbit as per Cestus III Space Control. Scan, keep giving me updates on the Gorn ship." I ordered.

"Gorn ship is leaving the system." Scan replied quickly.

Dreadnought returned to orbit around Cestus III. My crew and I were allowed to remain at station on the Bridge till the end of our shift. I was then relieved by the ship's XO.

Dreadnought had suffered very minor physical damage which was all corrected by the next shift. One hundred seventy-four crew had been affected by the Corona weapon. Most were back at their regular duties by their next shift. Some needed a full day to recover. A small number were more badly injured. Of those, three would never recover and would have to be permanently relieved of duty. They weren't dead and there was actually an office in Star Fleet that would determine, if they so desired, if there were any posts in Star Fleet in which they were still qualified to serve. However, their service on a Starship was over. At least there had been no fatalities.

That night, my crew celebrated our victory with me in the Engineering mess. They might have brought out some alcohol. I might have had just one drink. While I tried to stay proper, there was some wild dancing. Some of the dancing may have been on top of tables. We also sang a classic song favored in Engineering, "If you need to save the ship, better call engineering!" The song had many stanzas, each one describing the fecklessness of other departments and how Engineering, often in a double entendre had to finally save the ship. Time after time, just as the celebration was winding down, more Engineering personnel had come in and needed to celebrate with us again. Each time they needed to sing "Better Call Engineering" again. I decided, even though they were tiring, I liked victory parties much better than mourning. Eventually, I had finally been able to go back to my quarters.

In my quarters, as I tried to drift to sleep, I found myself once again on the Bridge of the Enterprise. I was a Cadet on her final Training Cruise. It had been expected that I would sit most of my duty at Navigation. I was competent at Helm, but with my math and attention to detail, better at Navigation. I had also hoped for some time with the Con, in the big chair. So, I was surprised when Captain Spock had put me at Science/Scan in space dock. I was still chafing from the Kobayashi Maru simulation and wondered if being placed at Science/Scan was some sort of punishment for my performance in that sim. Then Captain Spock revealed his plan had been to have me take the con and pilot the Enterprise from Space Dock. I was so proud to pilot the Enterprise from Space Dock. I sat in the real big chair for the first time. I did it well.

Then I was somewhat annoyed at Admiral Kirk. As part of being assigned as primary for Nav, I had spent the last three weeks working with Becky and her knowledge of astrogation carefully preparing a course for the Enterprise that would take the ship to various historically important and scientifically valuable spots throughout the Sol system. Admiral Kirk and Captain Spock threw all that work out the airlock and just had Commander Sulu fly the ship off at random. Then I went to Nav. It was not lost on me that if we were just flying off at random, not a lot of navigation would need to be done.

Later Kirk came in, announced he was taking command and we were going to investigate Regula One. I saw that as good news. It meant I got to navigate a warp course! I could barely wait to talk to Becky about it. Becky wasn't on the Bridge of course, she was in Astrogation doing her version of the Cadet Cruise. Astrogation was in the primary hull, forward and starboard of the Bridge.

The cruise had been expected to stay at one impulse or below confined to the Sol system. We were going to warp and out of Sol System. I wasn't scared by Admiral Kirk's announcement. It was normal to face simulated challenges and threats as part of a training cruise.

Then Reliant had showed up. It was obvious that Reliant was just some sort of training challenge. Yes, I would play along. Be a good sport. They could not even go through the effort to dress up Reliant as, say, a Romulan or Orion.

Admiral Kirk refused to raise shields. He was obviously testing me, as the primary Command candidate among the Cadets, as to the General Orders. If I said nothing, it would be held against me. So, I pointed out General Order 12, Admiral Kirk needed to raise the shields. Then Admiral Kirk and Captain Spock treated me like I was some sort of impertinent plebe and refused to raise the shields.

That is when my memory speeded up. I knew this was just a memory. It was not real. But I could not let it go. Those shields need to go up! If they do not, Becky will die. Then Khan was drilling Enterprise with phasers. There is the torpedo, perhaps poorly aimed at the Bridge but it will hit square on Astrogation. When it hits, Becky dies. There is nothing I can do. The torpedo seems to take forever. The torpedo, it's burning red fury beautiful to behold, absolute in it's intent, floating ever so gracefully in a slow beautiful arc from Reliant to our primary hull. Finally, the torpedo strikes Enterprise in the primary hull, forward and starboard of the Bridge. Becky dies. The entire mission plays out from there in fast forward. I can only save David, not the other researcher who dies. Then Captain Spock dies. No one thinks about how he is the only parent I have ever known and lets me say good-bye. The mission is over. The two people I love most in the universe are dead. All that is left is the crying.

With tears, the memory finally releases. I get up and go vomit in the lav. I wash my face. I remind myself that we got Captain Spock back.

I have had this memory, and others, creep up from time to time. I know I will get to go through them again.

After Captain Spock died, I wanted to hate Admiral Kirk. If he had just listened to me about the shields. I had arranged to meet with Admiral Kirk. I was going to tell him, in no uncertain terms, how much I held him responsible. Then, just as I was opening my mouth to yell, I saw in his eyes that Captain Spock was his most important person too, and that he was already suffering far more than I could ever hurt him. We had both lost our most important person and it was the same person. Captain Spock would not have wanted me to yell at Admiral Kirk. Before I could do anything, Admiral Kirk had hugged me, and we cried on each other's shoulder. It did not make the pain go away for either of us, but I know I was greatly comforted. I think Admiral Kirk was too.

After that, Admiral Kirk had taken over the job of being my mentor. That the two of us should be close, I knew it would please Captain Spock and that was very comforting to me. I think Admiral Kirk felt the same way.

The Gorns would try to claim that they had done nothing wrong and that it was my actions that were provocative! Unfortunately for them, Star Fleet had my review of their Corona weapon, as well as detailed records of them firing it at Dreadnought. Then detailed scans of them raising shields, arming weapons systems and moving to attack position before I had raised Dreadnought's defenses. Apparently, even a few more seconds of delay on my part and Dreadnought would have experienced a well-planned broadside without shields or Bridge crew. The broadside would have likely crippled the ship and pushed us into Cestus III's moon to our destruction. We would have likely gone down without even launching life boats.

In the endless pile of reports that I had to fill out over the incident, someone had let a little snippet of intel accidentally find it's way into my papers. Star Fleet Intelligence Command thought the Gorn Corona weapon might be related in some way to a less sophisticated Klingon weapon Enterprise had run into. The question was, who had refined the weapon and how had it gotten to the Gorn. All of which was very disquieting.

The Gorn diplomats backed down.

In fact, not long after the Peace Celebration incident, Admiral Kirk would take Enterprise to the Gorn homeworld as a special embassy, accompanied by Saratoga and Bretagne. In the ensuing negotiations, the Gorn Hegemony accepted the Trade Agreement on terms far more favorable than had been originally offered. Then, a formal peace treaty was signed. The Federation and the Gorns had never had a full peace treaty, not even a formal armistice, always getting by with interim agreements. By the terms of the treaty, the Cestus system was formally ceded to the Federation as well as other previously claimed territory between the Gorn and the Federation. A broad neutral zone was then set up between the Federation and Gorn using most of the remaining Gorn-claimed empty space between the Federation and the Gorn's small colonies and outposts. It was a remarkable achievement in diplomacy worthy of Kirk's reputation.

As for me, my time had come to an end on Dreadnought. Another casualty of the Gorn attack had been the improved food synthesizer software. I had hoped for a second commendation from that work. Still Commander Witlin had taken me aside privately and assured me there would be no negative consequences for my disobeying his order. In fact, he apologized for not taking my warnings more seriously!

Still, I did receive a second commendation for service, this time directly from Captain Bacon. When he presented the commendation he said, "You're actions saved the ship and all of our lives. You will always have my gratitude.

"I have also been authorized by Star Fleet Command to award you this," at that moment I realized there was a Yeoman filming, "admission into the Grankite Order and this medal, the Grankite Order of Tactics. Well done."

With that, Captain Bacon stopped and pinned the medal to my uniform.

Then Captain Bacon continued, "I am sure you realize the great honor of this medal, no other officer or crewman on this ship is a member of the Grankite Order. You honor this ship by carrying this medal. Congratulations."

I gave Captain Bacon my stiffest salute.

I then sent another note to Captain Spock and Admiral Kirk with the commendation, medal and the holo of me receiving them.

This time Captain Spock comm'ed me! "You have justified again the confidence I have placed in you. You honor our family."

The other shock came when my new orders arrived.

Like graduation from the Academy, one does not know if one has earned a promotion until one receives one's new orders. It was not a forgone conclusion that there would be no promotion. Still, with just the food synthesizer commendation, I had a pretty good chance. With the second commendation and medal, I felt pretty confident. Still, it would not be the first time Star Fleet Command had made some sort of completely unexpected choice and either forgotten or declined to promote someone worthy. It was also possible that they would decide that due to being graduated a Lieutenant Junior Grade and swift promotion after Grissom, another promotion was not yet warranted. So, until the orders came, I was on pins and needles. It was not decorous for a Vulcan or a Star Fleet officer, but I was a person with real hopes and emotions.

So, when I opened my orders, I was shocked to see I had not just been promoted, but double promoted! I was being promoted from Lieutenant to Commander in one step! That was humbling. I was now definitely the youngest Commander in Star Fleet. I was also the same rank as Commander Witlin. I had been promoted to the same rank as Commander Sulu had been when he assisted me on the Kobayashi Maru test. A rank he had achieved only after a long career of extremely distinguished service.

My orders were also similar to what I had expected. I would debark Dreadnought at Starbase 18 and be conveyed to my next post. However, the biggest surprise of all was that my next assignment was command of my own Starship! I would be the youngest Captain of a Starship in the history of Star Fleet!

*** And now a word from our sponsor! ***

If you enjoy Star Wars and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three Star Wars novels I have written, all called Legend of the Harp also available on this site!

If you enjoy modern urban fantasy and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three novels I have written based on the Dresden Files universe of Jim Butcher, called Warlock of Omaha, Warlock of Omaha Squared and Warlock of Omaha Cubed!

This writer, like the story teller in the market of old, now has a hat out hoping for a small gratuity. There is no obligation and I'm grateful you took a moment to read. However, if my writing has found favor in your eyes, please take a moment to go to:

Pay

Pal

.me

/hemaccabe

and throw in a little something, a dime, a quarter, a dollar, etc.

While I love to write, I do have a spouse and a child and a job and many other claims on my time that don't understand why I would spend so many hours banging on a keyboard. A small tangible return would help smooth the way to allow me to provide many more stories.

Please help. Thank-you.


	8. Chapter 8

**Star Trek Lost Destiny**

**By Hemaccabe**

**Book I: Race of Death**

**Chapter 8 History Lesson**

**ALL RIGHTS RESERVED**

Of course, the ship I had been given to command was an Oberth class vessel, similar to Grissom. Yes, I was achieving command four years faster than the previous record holder, Admiral Kirk. However, he had achieved command of a Constitution Class Heavy Cruiser, the largest and most prestigious class of ships in Star Fleet at the time. In the current dress of Constitution refit, still only second to the brand new Excelsiors. I was getting command of small sloop.

Admiral Kirk had also achieved the rank of Captain by that time. It wasn't unusual for an Oberth, a very small ship, to be commanded by someone with a lower rank than Captain. I know that confuses some civilians. In most navies, including Star Fleet, Captain is a rank. Captain is also a position on a ship, like Chief Helmsman. While on a ship like Enterprise or Dreadnought, it would be very unusual for the position of Captain to be held by anyone of a lower rank than Captain, and one frequently sees Commodores and Admirals placed as Captains of such vessels. For smaller ships, like an Oberth, it was not uncommon for a lower rank, like me, a Commander, to be given the position of Captain.

While my goal was still command of an Excelsior, I could see this wouldn't be a bad stop. A successful three-year tour as an Oberth captain could show very well. I wouldn't even need a promotion then. I could simply slot in as an XO to an Excelsior captain easily, probably more so than if I had gotten Chief Navigator somewhere else and remain on track for my goal.

Still, I had contacted Admiral Kirk to share the good news and see if he had any sage advice for me as new young Captain.

"Ah yes, nice to hear from you Commander Saavik." Admiral Kirk began with his enigmatic and self-satisfied smile. Clearly, he was already aware of my promotion.

"Did you have something to do with my promotion?" I asked, now curious.

Admiral Kirk didn't demure but answered with surprising frankness, "Commander Saavik, you must remember, I am a member of Star Fleet Command. In fact, I'm Chief of Operations. That puts me second only to Chief of Staff Alexander. I have something to do with almost everything these days."

(Author's Note: One of the many charmingly inconsistent things about Star Trek is what they call the overall commander of Star Fleet. For Lost Destiny, that term will be "Chief of Staff." This position is almost always held by a Fleet Admiral or higher. Based on ST III: TSFS, the Chief of Staff for Star Fleet should be Admiral Morrow. I am erasing that in favor of my admiration for "Prelude to Axanar," with Chief of Staff Alexander. Of course, we are now five years past when we last saw Admiral Morrow, he could have retired or been replaced by now as well. One must remember that while "Chief of Staff" is the formal title, it's also a mouthful and may be shortened by people chatting about the subject.)

I was immediately concerned that I was getting some sort of nepotism and stated, "I wouldn't want to get this promotion from some sort of favoritism."

"I admire your integrity Commander. Don't worry, you didn't. I did have something to do with your promotion, but I'm hardly the only Admiral with whom this decision had to pass muster. More importantly, I have Captains in charge of larger ships, with more than twice your experience, but with less than half your judgement.

"I believe, and I am rarely wrong, that you have internalized the need to protect your ship at any cost. There are Captains who go through their whole careers who never seem to truly grasp that."

I replied, "I would not presume to debate you."

He smiled obscurely and then said, "That would be wise."

Then I asked, "Is there any advice you would give me?"

Admiral Kirk thought for a moment then said, "I know, at this moment, you think you're just getting a normal Oberth. You're not. This ship is an important experiment for Star Fleet. We need a Captain who can get the most out of her to really test and see if she can be what we need her to be.

"Also, we are trusting you with some of our most treasured personnel. I'm doing that because I believe in your judgement. Don't let me down. Protect your crew and protect yourself.

"Lastly, pay attention to the advice I have already given you. You must use everything, everything you have and everything your crew can give you to succeed. Other than that, good luck."

"Thank-you Sir."

With that conversation, I started to think about what Admiral Kirk meant when he was talking about the ship to which I had been assigned. I reviewed the orders again and cross checked the name of the ship, "Ticonderoga," with the list of Star Fleet vessels. I saw the Ticonderoga was part of the Monitor sub-class of the Oberth class, designed to have better defensive systems. Ticonderoga was the third in the sub-class. It was not surprising that the Monitor sub class had not been built out heavily.

Considering the standard Oberth had one bank of two weak phasers, along with weak partial shields that couldn't cover the whole ship and was considered neither fast nor maneuverable, an upgrade to her defensive systems seemed in order. Oberths were certainly no match for equivalent size ships from the Klingons and Romulans as my recent painful experience with Grissom had shown. Expanding the Oberth's defensive capabilities would seem to make sense.

Unfortunately, the main changes between the regular Oberth and Monitor were that most of the science/research functions had been removed in favor of a second, rear firing bank of two weak phasers and only slightly better shields. The Monitors were still no match for their Romulan and Klingon peers, but now the hope of doing anything else that might be interesting was eliminated as well. I was non-plussed. I took a moment to consider the situation in terms of Star Fleet history.

I think even a civilian with only a casual interest in military affairs will know a little bit about Star Fleet's tortured history with ship design. Certainly we, who serve in Star Fleet, agonize about the history of Star Fleet ships trying to read in the tea leaves what might be coming.

Star Fleet's first vessels were the Enterprise class starting with NCC 101.

(Author's Note: Let's take a moment and completely re-write Star Trek: Enterprise converting it from the epic failure it was to something cool that the fans would have loved. I will say that, regardless of how my criticism sounds, unlike most fans, between DS9, Voyager and Enterprise, I liked Enterprise best.

The NX-01 Enterprise under Captain Archer spends the first two seasons engaged in missions of discovery and diplomacy. They deal with Vulcans helping the Vulcans to understand we're now equals, not clients. They meet the Andorians, an honorable and decent warrior race, a wonderful counterpoint to slimy warrior races like the Klingons and Romulans. They meet the somewhat technically backward, but numerous and economically strong Tellarites. Our three most important and nearest neighbors. Favors are done, long standing problems are resolved, pirates are chastised, the Enterprise develops a good reputation and makes important friends. We excise all of the abominations that are the Temporal Cold War.

The shame of ST: E is that it had some really compelling characters and some extremely well-acted and written episodes. There was huge potential there. Trying to keep up with Babylon 5 and failing miserably because you're just not JMS is so sad. Particularly when it's so obvious what could have been done. Sigh. The war with the Xindi was a really well written and an amazing bit of storytelling. Unfortunately, because they were boneheads who didn't love Star Trek, the writer/creators got the enemy wrong, that was supposed to be the Romulans, not Xindi, duh?

The third season begins with everything going so well. The NX-01 has been replaced on the Enterprise, now having proven herself, being re-christened the NCC 101, which is how most Federation citizens now remember her. There are eleven other "Enterprise Class" ships now produced. Earth and Star Fleet seem to be on the verge of a great destiny. Then disaster strikes. Earth finds herself at war with the Romulan Star Empire.

Just as an aside, I'm painfully aware of the briefing given by Spock in Balance of Terror. I'm doing everything in my ability to keep the description of events in line with that briefing. Unfortunately, many things in the briefing made sense in 1968, but don't in 2019. If you have polite constructive suggestions on how to improve my description, please feel free to write me.

The Enterprise is expected to lead the Earth in war. It's a new kind of war. Humans have never really faced the possibility that they might be conquered or wiped out by another species from space. There's no 911, backup, higher authority to go to, we're on our own. It's really scary. Stakes are high.

We quickly find that Earth phasers are better than the plasma guns of the Romulans. However, the Romulans have a limited cloaking system which doesn't make them completely invisible but makes it hard to tightly locate their ships with sensors and get phaser lock. While using this cloaking system, Romulan ships need so much energy, they can't go to warp. Both sides have primitive atomic torpedoes, which are the primary weapons of both sides. With torpedoes requiring tight locks to insure hits and the Romulan cloaking technology preventing those locks, Earth Fleet is at a substantial disadvantage.

There is no communication between adversaries as this would reveal ship locations and give the enemy a substantial advantage. Romulans particularly feel that communicating with the Humans would concede an advantage of intimidation. Humans don't want to try to communicate back with the faceless invaders.

Transporter functionality is spotty, so recovery of survivors requires sending out shuttles which puts the main ship at a terrible tactical disadvantage. Romulans don't even have transporter technology at this time. Even idealistic Earth finds they can't pass up on the chance to fire on a Romulan vessel when they are recovering survivors.

The first year, Earth moves to a wartime economy. The production rate of ships goes heroically from four to six. Unfortunately, over the course of the year, the Federation loses eight ships. The second year, the higher production rate can't be maintained due to a lack of resources and personnel, so production drops to five. Earth loses nine. The situation is critical with only six ships left; defeat for Earth seems imminent.

Out of desperation, Captain Archer and the Enterprise, so far, the ship with the best war record, are pulled from the front. They are sent on a diplomatic mission to Vulcan, Andoria and Tellar Prime to ask for help. Explain that once Earth is conquered, the Romulans will be coming for them. Get them to contribute ships and resources to a new alliance. On Vulcan, Captain Archer meets the idealistic young Ambassador Sarek who defeats isolationist Ambassador Soval in a major debate and helps first convince the Vulcans to help.

Sarek and Archer then get Andoria and Tellar to get on board. Then the Romulans are tricked into committing the bulk of their forces to a single attack, thinking they'll get a chance to destroy all remaining Earth ships in a single stroke. The Romulans do meet all remaining Earth ships, but also a large coalition of allied vessels and suffer a decisive defeat.

Thanks to Enterprise's amazing communications officer, they find a way to contact the Romulans through subspace radio. With Ambassador Sarek's help, he happens to be aboard Enterprise, a peace treaty is signed between the Romulans and Earth.

Thanks to Captain Archer and Ambassador Sarek, the first flower of the Federation has been born. All four races will now contribute ships to a new multi-species Star Fleet. The series concludes with Captain Archer being promoted to be the first Admiral of this unified fleet.

Maybe you could do better, but ST: Enterprise certainly proved they could do a lot, lot worse. BTW, this is canon history for the Lost Destiny alternate Trek reality.)

The Enterprise class, while primitive by modern standards, was actually a surprisingly good design for her time.

After the Romulan war, Star Fleet examined her options and discontinued the Enterprise class in favor of the two-sister class of the Saladin class Destroyer and Hermes class Scout. Both ships resembled the Constitution class that was to come. Both had a primary hull very similar to the one the Constitution class would later use. Both had necks that were also similar to the Constitution's. However, unlike the Constitution class where the neck leads to a secondary hull, on the Saladin/Hermes class ships, the neck led to a single warp nacelle. They were obviously smaller and far more fragile than the Constitution that would come later. Both the Saladin and Hermes were very similar, one of their selling points was that by being modularized, construction costs would be reduced overall and the ships could be switched quickly back and forth depending on need. Essentially, they were the same ship, with the Hermes being the Saladin with some weapons removed to include more scanning/science ability. The Saladin was a Hermes that had some science functionality removed in favor of more weapons. In peace time, ships could be switched to Hermes class. In war, they could be switched to Saladins.

The Hermes and Saladins weren't glamorous. The Saladins were expected to be able to work in packs to fight larger opponents, but due to the vastness of space, often found themselves alone, outnumbered and outgunned. The Hermes class, not expected to have to defend herself, found herself ambushed and nearly helpless on many occasions. Service on these vessels was difficult and dangerous. They weren't big, strong, galaxy beaters, but they served the small, poor, weak mostly human Federation well, defeating the Kzinti, Orions and Tholians among others in several wars while also mapping and scouting vast reaches of space, finding critical resources and allowing for many colonies to be placed.

As the Federation grew, it went through some difficult years. It's said that a camel is a horse that was designed by committee. It's difficult enough to design something like a Starship with a clear understanding of what your goals are. Now a ship design needed to be approved by four separate governments, each with greatly varying design philosophies. In addition, it was a time of great technological development. There were endless new technologies and developments which had to be vetted. All while budgets were constantly in flux, resources flowing in when there was a threat, flowing out when things seemed peaceful.

The result was a wide variety of ships getting built in the worst way and at the greatest possible expense. Nearly every ship was a class of one. One of the most expensive parts of building a Starship is the design and development. What one would hope for is that the cost of design and development could be amortized across a large class of ships. That's one of the main reasons ships are built as class. Building only one ship meant that it costs the absolute maximum amount.

Further the ships that were being built were confused. No secondary hull, one secondary hull, maybe two secondary hulls? Two secondary hulls, redundancy right? Or twice as much that can go wrong at twice the cost. Engine nacelles above the primary hull, below the primary hull, beside the primary hull. Some ships had decent phasers, but nacelles and secondary hulls meant they could only be fired in very narrow arcs. Some ships had phasers that weren't much more advanced than the original Enterprise.

They also had a lot of marvelous new ideas like wand phaser blasters. Phasers are difficult to aim, instead of a normal phaser cannon, let's build a wand that can be attached to a ship simultaneously firing lots of small phaser bursts. That way, the burst will cover a wider area meaning a greater likelihood of hit. Except the wand is fragile and when it goes out the ship is defenseless. Also, a single small burst won't do enough damage to harm almost anything, so to be successful, nearly the entire burst has to hit, which is harder to aim than a single phaser cannon.

Just a few of the great ideas that made it into production.

Into this awkward moment of history, came the Imperial Klingon Navy. The Klingons caught the Federation almost completely unprepared. The Four Years War began as a bloodbath for the Federation. Dedicated Klingon warriors and ships built very practically for war ground through Star Fleet's menagerie of bad idea ships.

Star Fleet also suffered because she had a variety of missions. Star Fleet crews and their captains were expected to be scientists, explorers and diplomats in addition to soldiers. Unfortunately, Star Fleet has a record of allowing herself to drift too far away from military preparedness. This meant Star Fleet's badly conceived ships were further hobbled by poorly trained crews.

Eventually, the Ares class, the Battle of Axanar and the emergence of the first few Constitution class Heavy Cruisers dug the Federation out of the disaster.

After the Four Years War, the Federation was able to settle into a logical plan for future ship construction. Of course, most of it failed.

The plan called for keeping the Saladin/Hermes class which was already painfully long in the tooth.

The plan also called for a class of tugboat Starships, the Ptolemies. Unfortunately, a basic feature of Starship design is fitting the most ship into the odd shape of the warp bubble created by her warp engines. That means the warp bubble a ship produces can't drag a long column of storage containers that would be outside the bubble, at least not at warp speed. Yes, that design failed completely.

The plan also conceived of a battleship design, the lead in the class was supposed to be named Dreadnought. Star Fleet learned a very expensive lesson that adding a third nacelle doesn't work. Why will one work, two work, four will work, three, no? Someday a greater understanding of warp dynamics may tell us, for now, no three nacelle ships.

Even when the Dreadnought was rebuilt with two nacelles, the basic problem was that she was more expensive and required a larger crew than two Constitutions.

As Admiral Kirk once explained it to me, "A Starship is a hole in space where a civilization throws resources. Everything about Starships is expensive, that's why it's such a privilege to have the opportunity to serve on one. However, nothing about a Starship is nearly as expensive as her crew."

The Ares class, which was so wonderful in the Four Years War, became a liability after the war. The Ares class was a purpose-built warship. That meant she wasn't much good for anything else. I would also mention that being a purpose-built warship, service aboard an Ares was, to put it mildly, quite spartan.

With the war over, there was, at best, limited need for the Ares. They were still kept in service for some time. There was still a need to patrol dangerous frontiers like the Klingon and Romulan neutral zones. However, the Ares class was unpopular, dangerous duty. Maximizing combat effectiveness meant minimizing mass and volume. One easy area to cut down on mass and volume was crew accommodations. Serving on an Ares meant hot bunking, weekly bathing and meals of flavorless paste. Knowing one would be doing nothing but repetitive patrol in a difficult environment was not something that attracted the best and brightest. As the Ares accumulated a reputation for being a dumping ground for discipline cases and poor crew, it didn't make things any better. As the ships got physically longer in the tooth and their systems became outdated, they were retired.

The one shining moment of the plan was the Constitution class. They were the perfect Federation ship. A powerful warship, but also a great explorer and versatile to handle endless other missions. She was so good, she essentially judo'ed the other ships in any other class that might be built. Why build one battleship when you can have two heavy cruisers for less and they are clearly better? Why build a destroyer or light cruiser when they cost more than half as much and aren't close to half as good? The main reason the Dreadnought class battleship didn't work out was that the Constitution class was so much better.

Unfortunately, since then, Star Fleet ship design hadn't improved much.

The Federation felt that it would be good to have a mixed fleet of different ships. A battleship was desired as it would allow confronting greater threats. A destroyer was still necessary, as there was a need to have a volume of ships. Perhaps, even a light cruiser, that could be a less expensive stablemate to the battleship.

Lots of expensive development got done, and not a lot of other Starships got built. Once again, the Federation fell into the bad habit of building only a few ships for each new class, mostly because they kept being seen for the bad idea and weak designs they were once they were completed and two or three examples had been built.

The Miranda class was a good example of this stagnation. A new ship had been demanded by the Andorians as something more similar to their traditional Starship design. Some Ares class ships were pulled from mothballs and updated, then re-designated as the Miranda class. When done, it was determined that while the Mirandas were better than the Ares had been, they still had major drawbacks as compared to a Constitution and were almost as expensive.

One of the reasons that the Constitution class was approved for a massive, expensive, upgrade program was that, despite getting very old, Star Fleet didn't have any better ideas.

The Saladin/Hermes class had also gotten painfully old.

The effort to replace the Saladin/Hermes class resulted in the badly compromised design that was the Oberth class. Still, the Oberth had virtues. She was cheap to produce, required a limited crew and could do a variety of necessary missions. This meant that they would be built in great numbers. Need crew or supplies moved, get an Oberth. Need to study something where combat isn't expected, get an Oberth. Need to try out a new idea in ship technology or design, get an Oberth. In addition, it was possible to create many different subclasses of the Oberth, like a hospital ship, or a science ship or a cargo/passenger ship. The Oberth was the cheap, versatile work pony of Star Fleet.

So, Star Fleet flew with a handful of very expensive Constitutions, a large number of cheap, useful but flawed Oberths and a variety of bad ideas.

The Excelsiors were only approved because of the promise of transwarp drive. However, even when transwarp drive failed, the need for a new class of vessel was still painfully clear and production of the Excelsiors continued. Other galactic powers were building bigger, more powerful vessels. The Federation had to respond. It was nice that they brought the Dreadnought name forward and used it for an Excelsior.

*** And now a word from our sponsor! ***

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	9. Chapter 9

**Star Trek Lost Destiny**

**By Hemaccabe**

**Book I: Race of Death**

**Chapter 9: Shore Leave**

**ALL RIGHTS RESERVED**

(Authors Note: I suppose now might be a good time to discuss my philosophy of what is and is not canon in Star Trek, particularly as it bares on Lost Destiny.

The main issue for me is how good the writing/story is. I value greatly if the creators of a given part of Star Trek are showing respect to the already existing canon. Then I judge if they are creating something truly new, noteworthy and valuable.

I would say here that if I fail in either of the two above goals, I apologize here profusely. Please feel free to, gently, explain your point of view in a review. I will be happy to discuss it with you. If I agree you're right, it will probably be reflected in revisions and future installments of this series.

I have already discussed Star Trek: Enterprise at some length in Chapter 8. I actually liked the opening song. It paid an homage to the crossover fan like me who both deeply wishes for greater human exploration of space in the real world and also loves Star Trek. A group, I assume, that covers most of both. While it was a prequel, which meant it had two and a half strikes against it to begin with, it was also covering some of the most exciting and interesting parts of Star Trek history, the emergence of Earth, the creation of the Federation and what should have also included the Earth-Romulan war. I describe what the series should have looked like in Chapter 8. It would be easy for me to say the creators of the series were clearly a group of talentless hacks who completely screwed it up. They didn't. They did a great job. Despite having every possibility of success, they still screwed it up and that hurts worse. In fact, if I had to choose between ST: DS9, Voyager or Enterprise, Enterprise is clearly the best of the bunch, IMHO. I actually enjoyed Enterprise much more than Next Generation.

Next, we have Star Trek: Discovery, or, as I call it, the STD. I was a little leery of the way CBS was going to blackmail Trekkers to pay a high monthly fee for this thing and STILL have ads. However, I watched the first few episodes and actually liked it. Michael Burnham seemed like an interesting character. They got (OMG!) Michelle Yeoh in a Star Trek series. I liked the way they presented the Klingons and their concerns showing how even the very peace loving and idealistic Federation could still blow it and get war. I was not one of the silly fans who spent a lot of time worrying about why the Klingon appearance had been changed, again. (Screenrant). I just accepted the stupidity and hubris of the show creators to do something so moronically dumb. I was annoyed with the way so little managed to happen in each episode and how they were dragging out and milking their limited story. Some higher power stopped me from watching after the first few episodes and saved me from the mirror, mirror train wreck disaster the series became.

Prelude to Axanar, in 22 minutes, is a better retelling of the events depicted in the STD than the STD managed in an entire big budget season. I recommend it to everyone as the best 22 new minutes of Star Trek we've gotten since ST II: TWOK.

The Kelvin Timeline. Less said the better. The one saving grace, it got Leonard Nimoy back up on the screen as Spock two more times. We miss you Leonard. Yes, I'm one of the whores who paid for tickets to all three hoping it would send the message that Star Trek is still loved, and we want more of it.

The Original Series is the heart of Star Trek. However, as I said at the beginning, Star Trek is in trouble as a franchise for many reasons, one of which is that the heart is sick. There are some episodes that are simply gold, and some of the best content ever created for TV, like Balance of Terror, Arena, Devil in the Dark and Journey to Babel. Unfortunately, the series is weighed down by other episodes like Spock's Brain and Gamemasters of Triskelion. Beyond that, the mid-1960s view of what the future will look like is getting more dated by the hour. Lost Destiny is all about trying to create a worthy sequel that could reinvigorate the franchise.

The movies are widely acknowledged to be very uneven. The first movie ST:TMP, so hoped for, such a disappointment, is forgotten.

Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan is, imho, the high point of Star Trek. The dialogue is poetry, ready to use excellent vocabulary and never speak down to the fans. Each movement, like a coordinated dance. I. Am. A. Huge. John Williams fan, but James Horner's score is a masterpiece, more than a match for anything Williams ever did. Yes, one frequently hears the "KHAN" line as a mockery, but clearly there is no irony in any performance. Every actor involved is leaving it all on the screen, fully committed to their role. Many of them giving, arguably, the best performances of their careers, including William Shatner, Ricardo Montalban and Kirstie Alley. The story shows relentless respect for what has come before. When imagining what one is seeing in Lost Destiny, it is based most on TWOK. The one major change I make is that Peter Preston survives badly injured.

Star Trek III is also mostly canon. With the major changes being the events we see on the Genesis planet happen mostly two years after the end of ST II: TWOK. Also, the Enterprise and David Marcus survive, both badly injured. There is no 1701-A, 1701 is repaired and refitted in space dock after the events.

Star Trek IV is a fun yarn. Mostly, it's still not canon. If the events occur, they happen after Saavik has left for duty on Dreadnought, so they don't much bear on the story. Kirk definitely does not get a new flame.

The other movies, we will forget. ST VI is also a good yarn but is also outside the scope of this story. Like ST IV, some parts could have happened, but they occurred without Saavik. They would also be in the future of this story. In Lost Destiny, the Klingons are still a primary rival, if not the primary rival, to the Federation and Star Fleet and represent a continued potential existential threat.

The opening scene in ST: Generations is also canon. Having just rewatched it, I noticed a Sulu daughter shows up. We haven't met Kiki yet, but there is nothing to say Sulu could not have had more than one daughter. Kiki and the daughter in ST: Generations are NOT the same person.

After ST VI, everything else is sequel. It's mostly bad, and frequently painfully disrespectful to the existing canon of Star Trek. The sequels occur in a period that is in the distant future for ST: II TWOK. This means it doesn't bear much on the time period covered in Lost Destiny. I will occasionally pay attention to some details, but mostly I will ignore them.

One last little detail, there is a Ticonderoga mentioned in ST: Enterprise. A freighter. This is not unreasonable, there have been ships named Ticonderoga that were transports. However, see Chapter 8 for my version of ST: Enterprise, that version is canon for Lost Destiny. The USS Ticonderoga circa ST:E in Lost Destiny was an Enterprise class.)

So, I was left knowing that Ticonderoga was an Oberth of the Monitor subclass. Which meant it had been stripped down of everything interesting it might be doing in favor of a very limited defensive upgrade which meant endless, and since it would still be painfully weak, pointless patrol.

I suspected, based on what I knew of the fate of the Ares class, while there would be nothing very interesting to do as Captain, most of my crews would be discipline problems and hardcases which would likely be all the more interesting since I, as the Captain, was a young woman.

All I had to hope for was the cryptic comments from Admiral Kirk that this was something better than what I expected.

I was picked up from Star Base 18 by USS Relief. She was an Oberth of the Good Will sub-class, hospital ships. Since there were no current active hostilities or disasters she was needed for, she was being used to ferry passengers and supplies from Earth to Starbase 18.

Since I had finished my final fitness reports for my Dreadnought engineering crew, rating them all quite highly, I had nothing better to do on the long voyage back to Earth, so I continued to work the food synthesizer problem for Dreadnought and the other Excelsiors.

Eventually, I was delivered safe and sound to Star Fleet Headquarters, San Francisco, Earth.

Based on my orders, it would take a few days for me to be transported to my ship. I was eager to see her and give her a thorough going over. I didn't understand the delay. One of Ticonderoga's few saving graces was that she was supposed to be new construction. All the shipyards in Sol system were supposed to be in orbit around Earth. I should have been able to just beam up. Yet I had to wait. I suspected there was some final work that needed doing or there had been some minor disaster and they didn't want to show me the ship until it was sorted out. Still, I would rather have seen the ship no matter what condition she was in. However, other than make a nuisance of myself, I could see no way to insist. So, I decided the better part of valor was to be patient.

That meant I had the rare, but unwanted, pleasure of a few days of shore leave. I got quarters at Star Fleet Command's Bachelor Officer's Quarters, also known as the BOQ. The BOQ was lovely. Essentially a large apartment building just spartan enough not to be considered luxurious with beautiful views of the Golden Gate strait.

Star Fleet Command, which included the Academy and the BOQ, was located in an area of San Francisco called the "Presidio." Apparently, the Presidio had been a military base up till the twenty-first century. Then the land had been sold to some sort of video story production company. After Earth's Last World War, the land had been taken over by Star Fleet.

I took the time to visit with Becky's parents. They had lived somewhere else called New York and had moved to San Francisco when their daughter had been accepted to Star Fleet Academy to be closer to her. With Becky's death, they had stayed.

I knocked on Becky's parent's door. They had an apartment in a respectable civilian part of town near the Presidio which meant I could just walk over.

They were expecting me and answered the door promptly. I had met them several times while at the Academy when Becky had invited me over. Her parents had accepted me almost as a daughter myself. Becky seemed to visit them most often for various religious festivals which seemed to be honored by eating a wide variety of delicacies. They had been warm loving evenings that I looked back on with joy.

Becky's Mother quickly wrapped me in a large hug and said, "Oh darling come in."

I was whisked to the couch. A plate of baked chicken with various side dishes was placed in my hands before I could turn it down.

When I had a chance to speak, I began with, "I need to apologize that I wasn't here for the funeral."

I had been part of the general funeral service for crew after the Khan incident. However, this was my first visit back to Earth since, so I had missed Becky's individual service. I was disappointed to learn that Becky had a closed, not empty coffin funeral. Some crewmen, the one's with empty coffins, would have been incinerated instantly and they would have suffered the least. Others, with closed coffins, meant some remains had been found. The crewmen who left those remains would have been expelled into space, burned to death or crushed by machinery. They would have had time to suffer and know their fate.

We all went and visited Becky's grave together. Her Father pronounced a prayer. We all placed stones on her headstone. It was remarkably like a Vulcan remembrance ceremony.

I checked on James. I knew he had been in San Francisco until recently. Apparently, he had shipped out just a week before. One of the many joys of life in the Service.

Every member of the Grankite Order in the Sol System, many of them senior Star Fleet officers, though not including Admiral Kirk who was away with Enterprise, held an induction ceremony for me which was pleasant and swift.

Admiral Chikota spoke, "Normally, the honor of induction into the Grankite Order reflects that the honoree has created or substantially refined a tactic for space war. Only rarely does the honor come to someone who has anticipated a never before used tactic and deployed an effective counter as that is so much more difficult and worthy of a much greater honor. Such is the honoree we have here tonight."

I was so honored, and I could not stop blushing.

The main portion of the induction was a formal dinner. By tradition, the main course was a dish called "Prime Rib."

The Maitre'D of the Order came to me and began, "While the main dish is Prime Rib, please be assured that we have taken into account your likely preferences as a Vulcan. We have a pleasant vegetarian option prepared."

It wouldn't help in most situations for people to know I was half-Romulan. All my documents simply read Vulcan. Since Romulan and Vulcan physiology are so similar, it was unlikely to cause any problems. Strangely enough, my blood type was even T Negative, the same rare blood type as my adoptive parent, Ambassador Spock.

I smiled and looked back at the Maitre'D, "I think I should like to have the Prime Rib. I prefer it to be rare."

The look on the Maitre'D's face was priceless, but he quickly complied. I broke my own rules and had one glass of bourbon before the meal and then, with the meal, one glass of something called "wine."

The Maitre'D explained, "The grapes to make the wine are cultivated nearby. This variety of wine is called 'Pinot Noir.' I hope you enjoy it."

I did enjoy it very much. The "Pinot Noir" was delicious in itself, was better with the prime rib and somehow made the Prime Rib better. I found, with only two drinks, I had a warm happy feeling in my stomach, but still seemed to be mostly in control. I certainly didn't feel an irrational desire to kiss anyone.

I have to say the meal was delicious and I will be happy to participate in any inductions that happen in the future should I be available.

I am also proud to report that I was able to make my way back to my quarters without incident.

*** And now a word from our sponsor! ***

If you enjoy Star Wars and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three Star Wars novels I have written, all called Legend of the Harp also available on this site!

If you enjoy modern urban fantasy and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three novels I have written based on the Dresden Files universe of Jim Butcher, called Warlock of Omaha, Warlock of Omaha Squared and Warlock of Omaha Cubed!

This writer, like the storyteller in the market of old, now has a hat out hoping for a small gratuity. There is no obligation and I'm grateful you took a moment to read. However, if my writing has found favor in your eyes, please take a moment to go to:

Pay

Pal

.me

/hemaccabe

and throw in a little something, a dime, a quarter, a dollar, etc.

While I love to write, I do have a spouse and a child and a job and many other claims on my time that don't understand why I would spend so many hours banging on a keyboard. A small tangible return would help smooth the way to allow me to provide many more stories.

Please help. Thank-you.


	10. Chapter 10

**Star Trek Lost Destiny**

**By Hemaccabe**

**Book I: Race of Death**

**Chapter 10: Journey to Neptune**

**ALL RIGHTS RESERVED**

(Authors Note: Star Trek and Money. Yes, in Star Trek: TNG they make a big deal about the Federation not using money anymore. Of course, one notices that part of what they seem to have to do to make that work is that no one has anything unique. We almost never see personal possessions that look like they couldn't have been ginned up in a replicator.

Then, by DS9, they need money again and suddenly Ferengi money, gold pressed latinum, becomes the new standard of exchange. Quite shameful for the proud Federation that they're reduced to using a corrupt petty nothing power's currency.

In ST II: TWOK, we spend an extended scene in Kirk's private apartment. It's a pretty fancy place with an amazing view in what must be high priced San Francisco. Kirk's quarters are also filled with an extended collection of antiques and unique items.

It would be interesting to see how a society with no money would decide who gets primo apartment/condos in San Francisco. I'm sure it would be perfectly equitable, and everyone would be well satisfied. NOT.

We also see, in no uncertain terms, in the Trouble with Tribbles, the Federation still uses money called "Credits."

Perhaps between the OS and TNG the Federation figured out how to strip everyone of their individuality and dignity so they could go without money, kind of backtracking on the whole optimistic future thing, but in the OS, they clearly still had money.

BTW, to all of the endless stupidity about what the Klingon language is called, not Khomerex klinzai, gooble gooble or any of the other ignorant things non-fan writers have come up with, it's "Klingoni.")

So, my three days of shore leave came to an end.

I reported bright and early to a landing pad near the Presidio and was greeted by an antiquated warp-capable cargo shuttle painted in civilian colors but with a Star Fleet ID still on the side.

I now had a garment bag, a case for framed documents and a duffel. My luggage requirements had tripled since I came to Dreadnought. I still valued the idea of traveling light, but I had to think the increase in my luggage was a good sign.

Out of the shuttle came a face I recognized. It was Peter Preston!

He was wearing a standard engineering uniform. It was no longer new and well starched, it was regulation, clean, but well-used. The uniform had seen hard vacuum. It had seen hard use. The gloves were casually clipped to his front in a way that drew attention to his narrow waist. His sleeves showed a rank of Lieutenant Junior Grade.

Peter had permanent burn scars on the right side of his face coming up from his collar and on his left hand. Strangely though, they suited him, gave him a certain dignity. He was taller. When I had tutored him as a first year, I was taller. I stand 1.73 Meters. Peter had been a head shorter. Now he was around a decimeter taller.

I had tutored Peter in my Fourth Year at the Academy and he was in his First. His math and history were rough. I did my best to pull him along. Then he had been so badly injured during the Khan incident. He had been decorated for his brave service and injuries. Then I knew he managed to continue without losing time and graduate. I had not seen Peter since Enterprise. We hadn't communicated much. Still, I found seeing him was wonderful. Peter had survived and clearly thrived. He had become a living symbol that Khan hadn't ruined everything.

I wanted to leap forward and hug Peter but just barely held myself back. If Peter was part of my crew, hugs would not be good for discipline.

I also remembered that he had once had a crush on me. That had been one of the endless things that Becky had helped me navigate. I was fond of Peter like the frustrating little brother I had never had. Even I could tell he had a terrible crush on me that I just could not reciprocate.

Becky had said when I came to her without any idea how to handle such a situation, "He's hardly the first guy, heck even some gals, that have had a crush on you."

I was dumbfounded. I had no idea.

Then Becky continued, "Just don't ever acknowledge it. Let it lie. Hopefully, he'll grow out of it. If he ever says something, just let him down easy."

Then Becky had coached me on "Letting down easy."

There he was. He saluted. "Hello Captain. We have a long flight that's getting longer while we stand. Are those your bags?"

I returned his salute and nodded. Without missing a beat, he picked up my three bags and stowed them in the shuttle.

Then he stepped aside from the hatch and I climbed in. I saw that aside from the two front seats, the shuttle was crammed full of cargo containers with barely enough room for my bags.

Peter hopped in effortlessly, took the pilot's seat and quickly and efficiently went through the procedure for departure. In minutes, we were breaking atmo and on our way.

I had expected to be heading somewhere in orbit, but Peter engaged the warp drive. The ancient shuttle groaned into warp.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"You can look at the navigation." Peter replied obscurely.

I pulled up the navigation and saw that we were headed for Neptune. That didn't make sense. There were no shipyards around Neptune, there wasn't really anything around Neptune. There was some talk about developing Triton as a colony, but with an endless supply of M-class worlds available, that was unpopular. It did not help that Neptune was out in the middle of nowhere. I checked the navigation. We weren't heading to Neptune specifically. We were heading to a small captured asteroid in a polar orbit around Neptune that was perpendicular to the elliptical plane. The orbit was actually a handful of light minutes above Neptune, right at the outer Roche limit.

Neptune's orbit had been moving her away from Earth as we talked, so Peter was correct that the longer we waited on the pad, the longer the flight would take.

"It would seem that my next logical question would be why are we going to a rock in an eccentric orbit around Neptune?" I asked when I reviewed the course which had left me with more questions than I had before I had looked at it.

"That's because, while it's logged on star charts as a valueless rock, it is, in fact a shipyard. Actually, it's the shipyard you piloted Enterprise out of." Peter replied.

"How is that possible? I have been reliably informed all shipyards in Sol system were orbiting Earth" I continued.

"Ahh, there we have the crux of the issue. This project is really Admiral Kirk's baby. He decided that rather than do things the way the Federation and Star Fleet normally do things, we would try a little discretion." Peter explained.

"So, you moved the shipyard to Neptune?" I continued.

"Actually, Enterprise tractored her out to Neptune. They picked a quiet moment when the fewest possible folks would notice and moved her." Peter continued to explain.

"Nobody noticed a missing shipyard?" I asked.

"Well, I'm sure some people noticed, but you're probably aware that shipyard has been superseded by the new superstation shipyard that was built to handle Excelsior construction and where they did the rehab on Enterprise. There was a press release indicating that the yard was in slow transit to an outer colony. The station may still go there someday. Star Fleet could use some more dedicated facilities for ship repair closer to some of our borders, especially the Triangle. For now though, she's here in orbit around Neptune for our project." Peter explained and started to finally make some sense.

"Why bother with all the secrecy?" I asked perplexed. The Federation was an open society. Whatever they were building out there would eventually become public.

"Well, there are two reasons. The first is, the Federation's enemies don't have to know any sooner than is absolutely necessary that we have a new toy. If we actually caught a few of them off guard a few times before they realized what they were dealing with, I think that could be a good thing." Peter defended the secrecy.

"You said 'two reasons.'" I prodded him.

"The second reason is a little more sticky." Peter answered uncomfortably.

"How so?" I asked him firmly.

"Every time Star Fleet tries to develop a new class of ships; a lot of bureaucrats and politicians seem to feel they have to become involved. They might mean well, but their 'help' has just made things worse. Admiral Kirk decided that it might be better if the development of this ship stayed in a smaller circle." Peter explained a bit sheepishly.

Peter had good reason to be sheepish. Military leaders going off and doing things they shouldn't was a major crime. At the very least, it was highly unethical.

"All new ships must be reviewed by the Supreme Assembly, approved by the High Council's Select Committee on Star Fleet Ship Procurement, the High Council and the Secretariat. Admiral Kirk doesn't have the authority to just start building new ships." I answered, understandably a bit concerned.

"Take it easy," Peter replied clearly trying to calm me down and not doing a very good job of it, "the ship was approved in the continuing budget for 2253 as a third Monitor Subclass Oberth class vessel. In the budget, there's an understanding that each example of a given ship may not be exactly like the last as better equipment becomes available, defects are corrected, and better procedures are developed, which is all perfectly normal. In addition, the supplementary budget of 2255 approved a special budget for this ship to have 'experimental equipment' installed for testing to determine it's future value."

I sat back in my seat and thought for a moment. The ship and budget had been approved. I confirmed both facts in a few seconds from my terminal. It all seemed legal.

"So, what exactly are you building out there? Is she a Monitor Subclass Oberth or something else?" I continued to probe.

"She is a Monitor Subclass Oberth class vessel, I suppose, from a certain point of view. She's really a whole lot more. I think you'll want to judge for yourself." Peter explained.

"What is she then?" I continued.

"Well, they're figuring out what to call her. They might call her anything from a Corvette, to a Cruiser, but we're expecting either Destroyer or Light Cruiser. I like to call her a 'Pocket Cruiser,'" Peter answered, not really helping.

"So, she's some sort of small Starship?" I asked.

"Yes, she's still technically an Oberth, but she's not really much like a Monitor subclass. Currently, Star Fleet has nothing like her. I think you personally experienced how useful a smaller class of vessel can be when you met that Klingon Warbird. All of our adversaries have such smaller ships and the Monitor, and certainly the regular Oberth, are not even close to a match for them.

"It might be nice if the Federation and Star Fleet were willing to drop some money for something bigger. Some sort of true, built from scratch, destroyer/light cruiser. However, we both know how that would go. By the time every ship 'expert' in a dozen species put their greasy fingerprints on her, we'd have another Miranda. So, Admiral Kirk came up with this."

What Peter said made some sense but there were still so many things I wanted to know.

"Is it just Admiral Kirk and you doing this?" I asked.

"Oh no," Peter replied, "Fleet Captain Scott has been helping a great deal as well. Essentially, Admiral Kirk makes sure we get the materials and funds we need. Fleet Captain Scott oversees design and development. I run my gang of engineers and build the thing. I, maybe, have one or two small ideas that I contribute as well." Peter replied with false modesty.

That Fleet Captain Scott had been involved was important. He was a legend in Star Fleet Engineering and now spent most of his time advising Star Fleet on Engineering issues, reviewing serious problems and doing inspections, really training, with new Chief Engineers throughout the Fleet. Essentially, he was now Chief Engineer to Star Fleet. Fleet Captain Scott had also overseen the refit of Enterprise, the first Constitution class to be so honored. The whole project had been his baby. If Fleet Captain Scott had done nothing else in his career, that refit alone would have made his reputation. He had somehow managed to create a whole new, state-of-the-art ship while retaining the best features of a legendary design. It was an awesome achievement. If one was going to 'refit' a ship, including adding and upgrading a bunch of new systems to her, there was probably no one better in the galaxy, and certainly the Federation, to oversee the project.

Most of the first two hours of the flight had been spent when Peter said, "I'd be happy to go over all the changes specifically with you here, but it will be easier to show you than to tell you. You might want to use the remaining couple hours to get some rest, you look tired."

I wanted to know more about my ship right now. On the other hand, the logic of Peter's suggestion could not be ignored. I could demand he tell me more right now, even order it, but he was being cagey for a reason. Peter was assigned to me and the ship as my Chief Engineer. He clearly was the best choice for the job as the one who had put this ship together and he had inherited at least some of his uncle's gift. I had been his tutor, big sister and crush. Now we needed to develop a working relationship based on mutual respect and trust.

Also, the Grankite Order Induction Ceremony and following banquet had kept me up quite late the night before and I had been at the pad bright and early. Once I got to Ticonderoga, I would probably need to be awake for at least the first twenty-four hours. I decided that yielding would be the better part of valor right now and nodded in agreement.

*** And now a word from our sponsor! ***

If you enjoy Star Wars and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three Star Wars novels I have written, all called Legend of the Harp also available on this site!

If you enjoy modern urban fantasy and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three novels I have written based on the Dresden Files universe of Jim Butcher, called Warlock of Omaha, Warlock of Omaha Squared and Warlock of Omaha Cubed!

This writer, like the story teller in the market of old, now has a hat out hoping for a small gratuity. There is no obligation and I'm grateful you took a moment to read. However, if my writing has found favor in your eyes, please take a moment to go to:

Pay

Pal

.me

/hemaccabe

and throw in a little something, a dime, a quarter, a dollar, etc.

While I love to write, I do have a spouse and a child and a job and many other claims on my time that don't understand why I would spend so many hours banging on a keyboard. A small tangible return would help smooth the way to allow me to provide many more stories.

Please help. Thank-you.


	11. Chapter 11

**Star Trek Lost Destiny**

**By Hemaccabe**

**Book I: Race of Death**

**Chapter 11 First Meeting**

**ALL RIGHTS RESERVED**

(Authors Note: I'm a big fan of the Star Fleet Technical Manual and Mr. Scott's Guide to the Enterprise, both of which are available as pdf downloads easily free on line. MSGE is the most important to Lost Destiny but is still not perfectly canon. The Enterprise is the first Constitution class to be refit but does not become a new Enterprise class. No new, keel up Constitutions are built, but some other surviving Constitutions DO get the refit, like the Saratoga.

The Enterprise was not the first ship to get Leeding engines. We saw a certain Miranda class vessel and Oberth class vessels that already had Leeding engines.

There are some other minor variances, but I would recommend readers peruse the MSGE as it could help them visualize what I'm writing here.

One of the issues I struggle with as I write Lost Destiny is what to do about technology. How true do I stay to what we saw in STII: TWOK and how much do I change it to reflect something more likely to what it would be?

A related issue is division of duties. To some extent, these are mixed in the OS, reflecting a Star Fleet philosophy that pretty much any trained officer should be able to jump into any seat. Still, that left Mr. Spock pretty busy, as he was responsible for being the Chief Science Officer, apparently also the Chief Ship's sysadmin, in charge of Scanners, Shield Control, Damage Control and any other duties which would fall to him, not to mention also being the First Officer. At the same time, Uhura spent her life as a glorified pre-auto switched telephone operator. This reflected certain sixties era prejudices. I plan to change this. I hope it doesn't hurt your feelings.)

It seemed that just as I closed my eyes, Peter was gently nudging me and quietly saying, "We're here. You need to wake up."

I quickly pulled myself together and stood up. Of course, an amenity like a mirror wouldn't be needed in the rough and ready, ever so masculine Star Fleet. The same Star Fleet that would judge an Officer, particularly a young, female officer, harshly if there was so much as a hair out of place.

I also knew that it would not possibly be good for discipline for me to board my first command looking muzzy.

I looked at Peter and said simply, "One moment."

I had long since sorted this problem out and produced a small mirror. Using the mirror, and with quick practiced movements, movements I had been taught once upon a time by Becky, I had my appearance back to it's normal crisp and ready.

Then I said, "Now, and please bring my bags."

Peter nodded as he hit the appropriate switch and the hatch swung open. Then he picked up my bags.

I strode up the short airlock tunnel and saw, just across the threshold, another familiar face. It was Rachel Crater! I knew Rachel, I had met her on visits to her grandfather's home. Her grandfather was Doctor Leonard McCoy. Rachel's Mother, Joanna, had apparently been something of a hellraiser and a political dissident in her younger days. Then she had settled down and had gotten her Doctorate in Mathematics. On my visits, mostly to see Dr. McCoy for checkups, Joanna would tutor me on math. Rachel would sneak me out of the house late at night to have adventures, like teaching me how to build a snowman.

Rachel had just been graduated from the Academy as I was entering. I noticed, by a glance at her tunic strap, that she was a Lieutenant Commander, the rank I had jumped. I also knew she had gone into Comms.

Rachel snapped me a very formal salute which I returned and began the ritual, "Permission to come aboard?"

Rachel smiled as she replied, "Permission granted."

I passed the threshold and was pleased to be piped aboard by the boatswain.

Being piped aboard is somewhat optional, it reflects the crew wishing to be welcoming to their new captain. I was grateful.

As soon as I passed the threshold I announced, "Ship's Log, let it show I, Commander Saavik, take command of this ship, as of right now, Stardate 8608.7"

On Enterprise, they had been able to use the whole torpedo bay for this ceremony. On Ticonderoga, there was barely an alcove. Still I looked around to see who else was present.

There was a group of modestly disreputable Engineers in their well worn but clean uniforms. I noticed one Engineer was Tellarite. That was just a bit surprising, most crews were still species homogenous. I knew Star Fleet was trying to break that down, but it could be a lot more comfortable to be among one's own species if one was going to be otherwise disconnected from civilization for an extended period. Still, I was pleased. I was pretty sure she was a female Tellarite, but like most non-Tellarites who had not spent a great deal of time around them, it was difficult to tell with just a glance, especially as she was wearing the bulky Engineer's uniform.

I looked further and saw Dr Kiki! Dr Kiyori "Kiki" Sulu had been my gynecologist, pretty much since I had needed one. She was the daughter of another of Ambassador Spock's friends, Captain Hikaru Sulu. I knew from chatting with Dr. Kiki that Captain Sulu and his spouse, Mike had used a normally reliable service that would take and mix their genetic contributions equally to create a child. The child her parents had specified was to be male and follow their gender preference. Instead, the vagaries of nature had reared their heads and they had gotten a daughter. The fact that I knew her preference was male made for an amusing question as to whether the service had gotten her preference right or wrong.

Dr Kiki snapped me a second formal salute when I walked up to her and asked, "Are you to be our Chief Medical Officer?"

"Yes I am." She replied with a smile. Dr Kiki was, like Rachel, older than me. She had gone through the very demanding Academy Medical Program. Personal experience and her long list of accomplishments, especially for one her age, which I had researched before I selected her to be my physician, told me she was an excellent doctor.

Ticonderoga was lucky to have her. Many ships this small only got a "Pharmacist's Mate." For example, Grissom only had a Pharmacist's Mate. Of course, David had been there, and he was an MD along with all his other degrees.

"Well, that will be convenient." I said with a smile.

"I hope so." She replied.

It took all our discipline not to hug right there.

(Author's Note: I know Sulu has another daughter, Demora, who shows up in ST: Generations. Nothing is to say he couldn't have had two. Kiyori is definitely not Demora. While the opening scene of ST: Generations is canon to Lost Destiny, it takes place far in the future to events depicted here.)

Right then, Peter emerged with my bags.

I looked at Peter and said, "Please have a yeoman deliver my bags to my quarters."

Peter put the bags down and said, "Aye Aye Sir. I imagine the Captain would now like a tour and explanations about ship's systems and capabilities?"

"The Captain would." I replied just slightly sardonically.

Peter smiled and replied, "Actually, this works out well. If you had been awake, you probably would have wanted me to start with a fly about. I'd really prefer to start with a visit to Engineering which is right through there."

As Peter finished, he said something to one of his Engineers and then he gestured to the opening from the alcove to the ship.

"I accept, lead on." I replied.

With that, Rachel announced, "Company dismissed!"

After Rachel's words, the company dispersed, and Peter led me through to Engineering.

The Engineering space was small, which I remembered from Grissom. It was also moved back. On Grissom, like most Star Fleet vessels, Engineering had been at the front of the secondary hull. Here it had been moved back to dominate the belly of the secondary hull. This ship clearly had the Oberth's typical canoe-shaped secondary hull, though larger than I remembered. The reason Engineering was moved back was clear, as Engineering was in turn dominated by a massive warp reactor that barely fit in the largest space in the center of the canoe.

"Captain, let me introduce you to the Leeding Engines TCX-1 warp reactor." Peter announced with a grand flourish.

The warp reactor was very pretty, a shiny metallic chrome with just a hint of gold. It had the normal beehive shape. Based on her size, I would imagine she put out a lot more power than the weak put-putter in Grissom which was, perhaps two meters in diameter and one in height, which this one dwarfed. Still, I wasn't terribly familiar with specific warp reactors so this one meant very little to me.

"It seems pretty." I remarked, showing that I was not impressed.

Peter did his best not to roll his eyes while at the same time his jaw dropped in disappointment.

He then nodded in acceptance that I might have one or two things to do other than keep up with warp reactor models.

"The TCX-1 is the latest warp reactor from Leeding Engines. It is also unusually compact. She has a belt of K-alloy around her bottom level that allows her to operate at substantially higher pressures than any other warp reactor available. That means she has the highest energy output of any warp reactor available to the Federation, both in volume and density." Peter explained, clearly expecting that last bit to be impressive.

"Ahh," I said. "That is good."

Peter's explanation had explained some things for me.

Starships had gained the ability to fly faster than light, or FTL, by developing the ability to create a bubble of warped space around themselves. In that warp bubble, different laws of physics would apply which included that the speed limit of light could be broken. The more intensely the ship warped space, the faster she could go.

The speed of a given ship through space was determined by a handful of variables. The more energy a warp reactor could produce, the more it could deliver to the ship's warp engines, which could then use the energy to warp space.

Our current understanding of warp did include an understanding of how much engine was necessary to convert available warp energy into warped space, so engines were generally sold now as part of a set with the warp reactor or core. The engines would have some capacity headroom to accept more energy, just in case a way to increase the output of a given warp core was found or there was some sort of surge.

Since the basic processes governing what happened in a warp core were well understood, that meant the bigger the warp core, the more energy it produced, the faster a ship could go. This had resulted in a size race among major powers in the quadrant to build bigger ships. Hence the Excelsior continuing even though transwarp had not panned out.

There was one other limiting feature on warp speed, and that was the shape of the warp bubble. One of the reasons for the odd shape of the Enterprise was the goal of fitting the ship into the irregular oblong shape of the warp bubble. The warp bubble that a ship generated was not a sphere or cube, it was an irregular oblong. If you had a bad ship design with an awkward shape, it wouldn't fit in the minimum sized warp bubble. If a ship didn't fit in it's warp bubble, the ship could still expend valuable warp energy making the bubble bigger, but that meant there would be less warp energy available to actually warp space and more space to warp, greatly reducing the maximum intensity of warp. Yes, this was a principle that was not well understood in many of the ship designs that proceeded the Four Years War, hence the Ptolemies. It was why the neck on Excelsior class ships had been thickened as it allowed for more internal ship's space well within the bubble.

Of course, a smaller ship had the potential advantage that since it could generate a smaller warp bubble, it could devote more energy to bubble intensity which would allow it to go faster than a larger ship with the same warp reactor. Which encouraged placing the largest possible warp core that a ship could carry. The Excelsior's warp core was a behemoth several times larger than the one here on Ticonderoga. Still, in Dreadnought's Engineering section, where I had worked for the last three years, there were stately walkways and plenty of space around the warp core. Here on Ticonderoga, this warp core they had selected clearly had only just barely been shoehorned in.

As if reading my thought, Peter piped up, "Yeah, we had to add two meters of length to the normal secondary hull size just to fit her and we were still only able to get her in by welding the hull around her."

While bigger was clearly better for a warp core, technology would also have it's say. The basic processes happening in all warp cores were the same, but better engineering and technology could get more from less.

What was really dazzling was when Peter described using K-alloy in the warp core. One of the many ways warp core designers and engineers sought to make their cores more efficient was strengthening their shell. That external beehive of metal wasn't there for show, it contained a matter/anti-matter reaction more energetic than the core of a star.

For almost a century, the Federation had depended on diburnium for it's high-strength tools, like warp cores. Diburnium, like steel before it, had developed over that century into a practically infinite number of versions and alloys. Engineers and designers would research endlessly looking for the best possible alloy recipe for their application. For warp cores, this search was as intense as it was frantic. For warp cores like Excelsior's, the alloys chosen would not simply be melted in a mold, but placed down atom by atom, creating lattices and crystallization to absolutely maximize strength.

K-alloy was a recent introduction to the galactic economy. One of the many accomplishments of Captain Kirk and the Enterprise during their Five-Year Mission was that he had made first contact with the Kelvan civilization. The exact details of what happened had not all been released. What I could tell and surmise from different sources was that Enterprise had been lured in with a distress call. They had been quickly overcome by the handful of surviving Kelvans, probably all that was left due to a war or some other disaster. Still the Kelvans possessed extremely advanced technology. Apparently, the Kelvans had planned to take the Enterprise and conquer known space. Somehow, Kirk had convinced the Kelvan leader it would be better to just settle down on a nice M class world they promptly renamed "New Kelva," whose chart location remains top secret. Part of the understanding was that the Federation would help them build a new colony and they could begin to trade with the rest of the Federation for their needs.

The first product the Kelvans had exported was K-alloy. K-alloy came in one variety and that variety was a chore for Federation technology to work with because it was so amazingly strong and hard. At first it had come in only very small amounts, a few grams at a time with an astronomical price. It was only used in highly exotic applications, like anti-matter injectors, where the super-performance would be most worthwhile.

The quantities had slowly grown, and the applications had become a bit more widespread.

For example, Constitution refits and Excelsiors had some areas where the hull had lattices of K-alloy supporting the diburnium. The lattice alone made the hull vastly stronger and better armored.

With the K-alloy belt, a first for a warp core as far as I was aware, I was not surprised at the TCX's high performance. For a new generation warp core to be even one percent more efficient than the previous generation would be considered a major accomplishment. I suspected the TCX had much more than a one percent improvement.

Part of what told me the TCX would be such an improvement was that it had the best energy density in both mass and volume. Even in current construction, it was not uncommon for a warp core to be optimized for mass or volume. Star Fleet generally spec'ed in top-of-the-line warp cores, at least for their important vessels, but would optimize depending on whether they had more mass or volume available. Freighter builders, depending on the ship's intended cargo, might economize with a high-volume or high-mass core. A warp core could be physically larger, higher volume, to produce more power or she could be compact and heavier to achieve the same goal. Peter was saying our warp core had the best output for her mass of all warp cores, an accomplishment, but not inconceivable in a new class of ship, but also that she had best output by volume as well, to be both was unheard of and likely only possible because of that K-alloy belt.

Normally a ship like Excelsior would be the fastest, with her bigger warp core. However, with her small warp bubble, large warp core to ship size ratio and high energy density, Ticonderoga might just have something to say about ship speed.

Peter then added, "Seeing that this warp core had been released was what gave me the idea for this ship."

*** And now a word from our sponsor! ***

If you enjoy Star Wars and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three Star Wars novels I have written, all called Legend of the Harp also available on this site!

If you enjoy modern urban fantasy and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three novels I have written based on the Dresden Files universe of Jim Butcher, called Warlock of Omaha, Warlock of Omaha Squared and Warlock of Omaha Cubed!

This writer, like the story teller in the market of old, now has a hat out hoping for a small gratuity. There is no obligation and I'm grateful you took a moment to read. However, if my writing has found favor in your eyes, please take a moment to go to:

Pay

Pal

.me

/hemaccabe

and throw in a little something, a dime, a quarter, a dollar, etc.

While I love to write, I do have a spouse and a child and a job and many other claims on my time that don't understand why I would spend so many hours banging on a keyboard. A small tangible return would help smooth the way to allow me to provide many more stories.

Please help. Thank-you.


	12. Chapter 12

**Star Trek Lost Destiny**

**By Hemaccabe**

**Book I: Race of Death**

**Chapter 12 Outside Tour**

**ALL RIGHTS RESERVED**

(Authors Note: I've heard a lot of fast and loose talk about the history of warp drive. I intend to settle it here for Lost Destiny. BTW, the combination of warp core and engines is called warp drive.)

I realized I remembered one more thing about Peter Preston. He was a huge fan of speed. His favorites were fast spaceships, but also seemed to include all other means of high-performance transportation. As I reviewed ship's systems with him, I came to realize he had somehow gotten Star Fleet, and the Federation, to cooperate with him in creating his fantasy speed ship. I knew this was not necessarily a bad thing.

"I think I would now like a tour around the outside of the ship." I announced.

"I thought you might, I had my engineers unload the cargo shuttle and swap it out for our single travel pod while I showed you the warp core. If you come this way?" Peter gestured back to the hatch I just had come in.

I walked back and found when the hatch opened, it was no longer a gangway to a cargo shuttle, but a small travel pod. I boarded and sat in the front right seat. Peter came in behind me and took the left seat.

As a travel pod is backed into the hull, I had a dazzling view of the inside of the spacedock, but not the ship I was eager to see.

Peter took us out on a long sweeping course which made sense as it should give us a good view and a nice circular tour of the vessel. Except that it was just that much more time before I could finally see the ship. I found I was on pins and needles now waiting for my first view.

Finally, Peter swung the travel pod around and I had my first view of Ticonderoga as she sat in spacedock.

She reminded me of nothing so much as if a Constitution refit and Excelsior had mated, had a love child, and it somehow came out as an Oberth. A strange mutated Oberth.

I would love to say I just completely fell in love with Ticonderoga right there. In most Captain's memoirs, the Captains describe how they fell in love with their ship at first sight. That love is important. The more a Captain is bonded to their ship, the harder they will fight to preserve her. If there was a way to force myself to love this strange creation, I would. I just couldn't make myself love this strange mutant baby ship. She wasn't an Excelsior.

I looked at Peter. His face glowed with pride and love. This ship was obviously his baby. He began, "Let me begin by pointing out some features that are unique to Ticonderoga.

"The first thing you may notice is that she has a full navigational deflector dish inset on the secondary hull."

I did see the navigational deflector, like a glowing blue pit on the front of Ticonderoga's canoe-like secondary hull.

Most Oberths, like Grissom, did not have a dedicated navigational deflector which made them so much slower and less handy. The full navigational deflector would mean Ticonderoga could navigate like a true Starship.

Peter continued, "You'll notice we used nacelle pylons like the one's on the Constitution refit. We upgraded the pylons for the same reason they did on the Constitution refit. Like Enterprise, Ticonderoga's new engines are larger and substantially more powerful than the ones they replace, the extra framing and structural strength is necessary. These are also the first Leeding warp engines on a Star Fleet ship since Shuvinaaljis won back Star Fleet with the Excelsior contract."

Peter was talking about the big competition between the Federation's two major suppliers of warp drives.

Shuvinaaljis Warp Technologies had been founded back when Zephram Cochrane was still leading the new United Earth government.

Cochrane's demonstration of a working warp drive had attracted the attention of the friendly Vulcans. When Cochrane had developed and demonstrated his warp drive, the Earth was just recovering from her final World War. Things were pretty primitive. Earth had needed every kind of aid imaginable from the Vulcans. Vulcan in turn, had lived up to her highest moral standards and provided the aid unstintingly.

Eventually, there would be some chafing. Vulcan wanted to protect a very unready Earth from drawing too much attention to herself in what Vulcan knew was a rough and unforgiving neighborhood. The Earth-Romulan war proved that the Vulcans had a point.

Earth clearly felt they were being held back and that the Vulcans seemed to want to make them into a subservient client which they had no desire to be.

Cochrane himself had decided to start research, development and production of more warp drives, despite the fact that warp drives are bitterly expensive. Warp drives are probably the most expensive thing starfaring civilizations do. This, while Earth was still dependent on Vulcan even for food aid.

One of the areas of Earth where the high-tech industrial base had been least damaged by the recent Last World War had been south western India. There, a firm named Shuvinaaljis, backed by the Indian Institutes for Technology based in Goa and Dharwad, took up the challenge of building Earth's warp drives.

I had done a paper in a second-year economics class at the Academy about the ownership of Shuvinaaljis. What I didn't know was that the study of the ownership of Shuvinaaljis was a morass that, black hole-like, had swallowed the careers of many before me. I committed all my time and resources available for the paper, only to find I had not obtained a clear answer. I would have changed topics, but it was too late. The day before, I pulled an all-nighter and wrote up the best summation I could of what I had found.

I had expected a bad grade, just as, at that point, I expected only to be a middle-of-the-pack Cadet.

Instead, I got top marks on my paper along with a "Well researched and presented. You draw some interesting conclusions."

I had been inspired to try to rise to the top.

What I had determined in my paper was that, because warp drives are so expensive, every trick in the government handbook had been used to help keep costs down. Shuvinaaljis had become a semi-, quasi-, government entity. Cochrane's Earth government had invested directly in Shuvinaaljis. Earth Government had given guaranteed contracts, guarantees on credit, and guarantees against failure. Local, state and planetary governments had given tax breaks. Local and state governments had invested too. Shuvinaaljis was considered a government instrument and allowed to be a monopoly.

In turn, Shuvinaaljis had produced the engines that drove the first Earth Merchant Marine freighters. One cannot understand Earth's early space faring period without understanding just how poor the Earth was at that point. The contributions of those freighters, and the trade they did, to Earth's small, poor, fragile economy cannot be overstated.

Shuvinaaljis produced the engines for Star Fleet. Heroically rising to the challenge of increasing production during the Earth-Romulan War and the Four Years War.

Shuvinaaljis also went on to dominate the new Federation's warp drive production, a proud accomplishment for the young human civilization, proving to be faster and more adept at absorbing the design and technology advantages of other civilizations.

There are a lot of folks who are very fond of Shuvinaaljis. For good reason. Shuvinaaljis is an institution in modern Earth and Federation history. There are pictures of Cochrane helping out with research at Shuvinaaljis' headquarters/research center.

Unfortunately, some time after the first Constitutions were produced. Things started to go wrong. The first battleship prototype with three engines had been a Shuvinaaljis idea.

After that, the unbearably complex ownership structure of Shuvinaaljis started to become a major liability. The company was bleeding Credits in massive gushing wounds of litigation, influence peddling and corruption. Cost of engines kept going up, engine technology stayed flat, quality and speed of manufacture went down.

That a firm as important as Shuvinaaljis was to the entire Federation was stalling as they were was a major problem. One could not presume that warp drive development was stalling in the Klingon or Romulan Star Empires. In fact, the Federation was painfully aware Klingon engine technology was superior and it was being shared with the Romulans. While Federation technology stayed flat.

The ideal solution would likely have been to just have the Federation step in and simplify ownership. Unfortunately, Shuvanaaljis' corruption was too entrenched across too many layers of government to ever be confronted effectively by the Federation government.

Still, a solution had been found. The Federation revoked Shuvinaalji's monopoly and offered a package of loan guarantees, investment and guaranteed contracts to any firm that was willing to enter competition with Shuvinaaljis.

Zachary Leeding of what would become Leeding Engines Ltd, and a direct descendant of Zephram Cochrane, took up the challenge. Leeding had been a top designer and corporate officer at Shuvinaaljis. He left Shuvinaaljis to free his hands to develop his own ideas.

Leeding Engines Ltd produced the FWG-1 warp drive. Technology-wise, they were about the same as Shuvinaaljis. However, they had a few advantages.

To move a starship, one needs to warp space. That changed the rules of physics to allow movement at speeds higher than the speed of light. However, that meant the ship still needed to make conventional thrust to push through warped space.

Shuvinaaljis had solved this problem by using scarce warp power to drive conventional thrusters which were built into the warp nacelles. This decision was based on the early days of warp technology, when conventional fusion powerplants weren't strong enough to provide the thrust. It was efficient to build thrusters into the nacelles if they were to use warp power. These conventional thrusters in the nacelles were why Shuvinaaljis warp engines were like round, fat cigars.

Leeding Engines Ltd.'s FWG-1 had simpler nacelles which only warped space. All thrust would come from the modern impulse engine, which was more than capable. This freed up warp energy to be applied to warping space. Since they had more power available to warp space, the ship could go faster. This design also simplified and lightened the ship. Simplicity meant they were cheaper to make, buy and maintain, all very highly desirable features. Since there were no conventional thrusters in the Leeding engines, they looked like thin planks.

Star Fleet and many other ship producers started buying Leeding engines. They would be used in many designs culminating in the Constitution refit.

Shuvinaaljis then came back. Actual competition and the very real specter of being driven out of business had convinced Shuvinaaljis to simplify ownership greatly. It was still a black hole morass, but orders of magnitude less bad.

Shuvinaaljis had cleaned up corruption, fixed quality problems in production and doubled down and research and design. They also copied Leeding's innovations.

Then Leeding stumbled. Transwarp was a Leeding mistake. It's hard to quantify just what a waste and a blow transwarp was to Star Fleet and the Federation.

When the contract to build warp drives for the Excelsiors came up, Shuvinaaljis won and they had won every contract since.

It was very clear Ticonderoga's new, much larger, warp engines were supplied by Leeding. Since normal Oberth class engines are supplied by Leeding, these new Leeding supplied engines looked very similar. I realized another advantage of using Leeding engines on Ticonderoga would be that, unless one was very familiar with the Oberth class, it might not be clear that these engines were larger and likely to be more powerful. On an Oberth, the tiny warp engines cluster around the primary hull like a mythical cherub's wings, leaving the larger, canoe-like secondary hull to be the rear point. These new engines were so much larger, they now extended out behind the secondary hull.

Peter kept circling and pointed out, "We also added a neck between the primary and secondary hull. With the much larger warp core and navigational deflector taking up space in the secondary hull, we needed the space. It also contributes to overall structural strength. With a direct connection between the primary and secondary hull, I was able to unify the turbolift system. It's not the most extensive system, if you're at the outer edge of the primary hull, you'll get to walk, but at least you won't have to make multiple connections.

"Yes, the neck does look substantially like refit Enterprise's. It saved a lot of time and budget not duplicating work that had already been done. Captain Scott put those pylons and neck together with his picked crew of designers for the Constitution refits so they're really good. It was much simpler shrinking those designs for this ship than re-inventing the wheel and designing a new set from scratch."

The turbolift would be nice. On Dreadnought, like all Excelsiors, to get from one side of the ship to the other, one had to make several connections. It was a pain.

Then Peter continued. "The neck makes good space for quarters. High surface area means most quarters can have their own porthole.

"You'll also notice the primary hull is substantially larger. We need it for the extra crew and other systems not normally carried by an Oberth. The primary hull is probably the biggest, most custom part of this whole build, but it was necessary if this concept was going to work. We also took that opportunity to substantially upgrade the impulse engine."

The primary hull looked like a miniature version of an Excelsior. Even the impulse drive assembly now resembled the impulse drive on an Excelsior. Including blue glowing dome and fins. As we circled around, I noticed something strange, even by the standards of this ship. There were two impulse engines.

I had to ask, "What did you do with the impulse engine?"

Peter shook his head a bit, as if a bit abashed by what he had done, then answered, "Yes I put in a racing engine setup. Yes, there are two engines. However, that adds reliability by redundancy. Don't worry, we tuned them for reliability and durability, not maximum performance."

I was a little worried about what Peter had just said. Star Fleet certainly used high-performance impulse drives, but racing engines were known for being unreliable and for excessive fuel consumption which would limit range, so I felt obligated to ask, "What about reliability and fuel consumption?"

Peter's eyes went up as if he was clearly anticipating this question. "With the high-performance components built into race engines, tuned for reliability and durability, rather than short term maximum performance, they should actually become more reliable and have equivalent fuel consumption to the commercial grade engines Star Fleet normally uses. Available to the helmsman, with a flip of the switch, will be higher performance when you need it. The reason these engines aren't used more often is that they're substantially more expensive to purchase than the commercial grade. Oh, you'll also notice we kept the standard Oberth struts between the Primary hull and the warp nacelles. We didn't absolutely need them, but it's amazing what they do for the ship's structural strength and integrity."

That actually sounded very good, so I backed down. Still there was one major component Peter knew I would ask about. To his credit he began, "You're probably wondering about the superstructure."

"As a matter of fact, I am." I replied.

Ticonderoga had a superstructure very reminiscent of Reliant and other Miranda class vessels.

Peter nodded. "Superstructures like that were very common on Starships up to the Four Years War,"

I was wondering where Peter was going with this, pre-Four Years War Starship design was not a recommendation.

Peter continued, "for good reason, they were a fast way to get space to add weapons and other systems. One of the main design problems starship's have is overheating. Space may be bitter cold, but it doesn't have atmosphere to carry away heat. Phasers run particularly hot. Being exposed to vacuum with heat radiating fins is a good location for them."

Phaser heating was a significant problem. One of the primary tactical limitations of phasers was overheating, limiting duration of use. Most of the casualties in phaser crews were caused by leaks in the hyper-toxic coolant mix that was needed to keep the phasers from melting themselves or exploding. The leaks were caused when the heat of the phasers in operation so superheated the coolant that it burst containment. Mounting the phasers in space with heat radiating fins did make sense.

"It's my considered opinion that superstructures got forgotten because the Constitutions didn't have them and every ship designer after Constitution was trying to emulate them.

"Except the reason Constitutions didn't have superstructures was because when they were first being built, we were desperately rushing to have them available in the Four Years War. Star Fleet knew the D7 was coming and we needed those heavy cruisers if we were going to survive. In the rush to get, what for the time were incredibly complicated ships, out, rather than develop a whole new primary hull, they used the designs from Saladin/Hermes which didn't have superstructures.

"Since then, the only ships that got a superstructure were the Mirandas. The Mirandas were a failure for other reasons, but it still, once again, gave superstructures a bad name. So, superstructures have been set aside for silly emotional reasons. However, on their own merits, superstructures are a huge asset. I set my prejudices aside and built based on what had the most practical merit. I hope you can too.

"Like Monitor and Pensacola before her, Ticonderoga has two banks of two phaser cannons. One mounted forward and one mounted in the rear of the secondary hull. The superstructure gives us two more banks

(Authors Note: In case it isn't clear, Ticonderoga is the third in the Monitor sub-class of Oberth class vessels. Monitor and Pensacola are the not very impressive, still generally similar to a standard Oberth, different from a conventional Oberth in that most of their exploration and science systems have been removed to accommodate a second bank of rear-firing phasers mounted in the secondary hull. Neither of them is very similar to Ticonderoga which is only nominally an Oberth sub class ship.)

of two cannons a piece mounted on each shoulder. They both have firing arcs of over two hundred-seventy degrees. That means you can mass at least three banks of phasers in almost every direction."

That was very impressive.

"In the middle of the superstructure, you have a photon torpedo launcher. It gives you two tubes forward, one tube rear. Unlike a Constitution refit, which takes a crew of twenty per tube, these tubes are auto loaded. Each tube has ten torpedoes in a magazine. Generally, two crew oversee, but the system can be operated from the Bridge in a pinch. We don't have any extra torpedoes in storage. We can reload the system with two crew at a facility that has torpedoes and a transporter to beam them aboard.

"She fires Mark VI torpedoes, just like a Constitution refit or Excelsior. If there was something better, I would have got it. There wasn't. More interesting, the phaser cannons are all Type IX. They aren't the same model as the Type IXs on an Excelsior, they're more compact and energy efficient. However, we checked the output here and tested them against a Type IX of the same model and tune as are installed on an Excelsior. Output and destructive potential are the same."

What Peter was describing was very impressive. A standard Oberth, and even one of the Monitor sub-class was equipped with Type III phasers, substantially less powerful. Type III would have been top-of-the-line back during the Four Years War. When the Constitution class came out at the end of the Four Years War, one of their innovations was that they were equipped with Type V phasers. The complexities of the Type V phasers were one of the key technical challenges that delayed the Constitution class from entering the war.

The phaser type wasn't an absolute statement of exactly what equipment was on board, but rather a standard. Over time, better versions would be released until a new Type was officially brought into service, so a Type V from when they were introduced would be different from the final models that were being produced twenty years later when the Type VII was introduced.

The Type Vs in the original Constitution class would have been bleeding edge technology, very expensive and very finicky. Still, they would be what Enterprise would carry all through her famous Five-Year Mission.

The Type VII officially reflected many years of research and development by Federation scientists and engineers. I knew it also reflected a simple hand weapon that then Captain Kirk recovered from the inhabitants of the planet Scalos, another world that is considered so sensitive that it's not charted to prevent people from going there. In references to Scalos, there is a warning that, "The population of Scalos has advanced technology and are very hostile. They will use deception to lure ships in. All those so lured are likely to be killed."

That Scalosian hand weapon had substantially better technology than our Federation phasers and contributed what would be known as the Transtator II. The technology was the key driver for the Type VII phaser. During her refit, the Enterprise was equipped with Type VII phasers and still had them.

One of the many improvements for Excelsior was the upgrade to Type IX phasers, possible because Excelsior had the space to accommodate some huge phaser cannons. I had done maintenance on those cannons a number of times during my tour on Dreadnought. Dreadnought's cannons were large, ponderous, finicky and required relentless maintenance. They also consumed a massive amount of energy when fired.

It had been almost five years since Excelsior and the original Type IXs were introduced, so it wasn't surprising to find better models had been released. Still, what Peter was claiming was amazing, essentially, he was saying Ticonderoga's firepower was comparable to a Constitution refit's. We had better phasers, they had more. They also had better photon torpedo capability. Still for a ship this small to be this close was amazing.

Still, there were reasons why they used a large crew to fire photon torpedoes.

"Isn't there a danger that a hit to the photon torpedo launcher could detonate all the torpedoes in the magazine and destroy the ship?" I asked skeptically.

Peter calmly replied, "Until the order is given to arm the torpedo to fire, they're dormant. They can be destroyed, but they can't detonate because they don't have an anti-matter load yet. Still, if you give the order to arm the photon torpedoes, don't fire them and they're destroyed, they'll detonate quite convincingly. At which point we'll all be glad the torpedo tubes are in a superstructure, not inside the ship."

"Why isn't the torpedo launcher in the neck, like on Enterprise?" I continued.

Peter gave what was clearly a prepared answer, "Our neck may look like Enterprise's, but it's much smaller than hers. A torpedo launcher would have to be the same size. That means a torpedo launcher in Ticonderoga's neck would have dominated nearly the entire neck, would have cost us all the space for quarters and storage, and would have made movement between the primary hull and secondary hull much more difficult.

"Still, we tried. We ran endless simulations. Every way we tried to strengthen and reinforce the neck, we still found that every time you fired a torpedo, it would tear the secondary hull off. We tried. A lot. We just could not find a way. A funny thing happened on the way to designing a ship."

Peter's last obscure comment was a common phrase used in Starship design. It was used in situations where one might think some sort of feature should be possible, but after exhaustive effort, proved impossible. It reflected that sometimes things we hope would work will not in the real world of Starship design because Starships are amazing, hyper-complicated things and we still don't know everything about how the universe works.

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	13. Chapter 13

**Star Trek Lost Destiny**

**By Hemaccabe**

**Book I: Race of Death**

**Chapter 13: Off World Colony of the Bigfoots**

**ALL RIGHTS RESERVED**

(Authors Note: I would like for you, the reader, to know, that as I have written this book, I have tried as hard as I could to respect Star Trek continuity as much as possible. Unfortunately, many items in canon simply don't work because the people who created them just really didn't care enough about such details to make them work.

To give a few examples. How fast is warp drive? No one knows. I've looked at a lot of thoughtful essays and articles on the subject. Since the people creating Star Trek didn't care, there is no clear understanding. I remember someone important to the actual creation of content saying that for warp equal to X, the velocity was 2 to the X C. Sounds good until you think warp two, a commonly used cruising speed, would be 4C, so about a year's voyage to Sol's nearest neighbor Alpha Centauri. Hard to get around very far at 4C in a single human life span, much less a five-year mission.

I will say that Wikipedia does have a delightfully well written and researched article on the subject.

Combined with not knowing how fast the ships are going, is the fact that there are no accurate star maps of Federation space. I've looked at a bunch and none of them agree with each other. Even if you could get such a map, one must remember our galaxy is in three dimensions. The Milky Way, in Sol's neighborhood, is 1000 light years thick. Based on even generous estimates of warp speed, 1000 light years is a long way. The most generous estimates of speed I've run across in the Star Trek world put Voyager going about 1000 C at max velocity. So, a one-year voyage minimum for the fastest Star Fleet vessel yet depicted and presumably much faster than the vessels of the time frame of this story. Back to the maps, all the maps I looked at were essentially two-dimensional. Generally, the Federation is depicted as a large circle. We should be thinking of the Federation as a sphere. She could also have neighbors above and below. It's possible, in a two-dimensional map, for the Klingon and Romulan Empires to be on top of one another. In a two-dimensional map, two stars could be next to each other, but actually vast distances apart. I'm also not touching on issues like time dilation, the terrain of the galaxy, etc. Even if we had a good sense of warp speed and a good three-dimensional map, interstellar navigation is still likely to be a lot more complicated than solving a simple equation for distance and we, the human species at this moment, have pretty much zero knowledge or experience about navigating interstellar distances.

I've reviewed a lot of details about ships. Generally, interior and exterior layouts don't line up. The exteriors were made to be sexy art and the interiors to suit the drama of the scenes being filmed. Making sure they lined up was apparently nobody's job and, when you look at these ships closely, it shows. The numbers for length and width we generally see in places like Memory Alpha don't correspond to anything.

I'd also point out, there is pretty much no consistency in Stardates, including with the many Stardate calculators on the net, so trying to figure that out is pointless.

I'd like for Saavik to be doing more third decimal statements, like "This ship is 143.692 meters long" or to be giving travel times down to the second. It would show her Vulcan heritage better as well as Spock's influence which would be great for the story. It's really just not possible unless I make it up and then I'm creating canon I'm not sure I can maintain later.

I know many Trekkers are serious detail people and I'd love to support that. Unfortunately, to be able to do that, the creators of the canon would have had to hold it in the same kind of esteem as well, and they just don't.

I dream that this novel, and hopefully her sequels, will be dazzlingly popular. Then I'll link up with someone like Alec Peters and a crew of really solid, brilliant scientists and engineers, and we'll create a Star Trek where we have a solid Federation and vicinity map. We'll nail down how fast warp drive is and how fast various ships can go. Before we show a ship, we not only make a sexy model, but also a logical and reasonable set of interior layouts. Then make it all internally consistent. I know I'm taking forever in author's notes and long expository sections to lay things out without much action. I'm doing it in an effort to build a more internally consistent Star Trek world. It's an investment in future storytelling I'm hoping you will be patient enough to endure.

In the meantime, I use statements in the series and movies that describe subspace messages from the Klingon and Romulan neutral zone as requiring three weeks by subspace for a message to get back to Earth, to understand that the distances involved must be substantial. I would have to imagine subspace speed is, at least, as fast as a fast ship, if not much faster. This supports an idea that getting around from one part of the Federation to another is something that takes months, not days. I also have an interior layout of Ticonderoga, which I try to share as well as my meager writing skills allow, which matches up with her exterior shape. I promise, I am trying.)

We had reviewed Ticonderoga's outer appearance. She had a neck, engine pylons and warp engines that were very reminiscent of Enterprise. She had a deflector dish and Primary hull that were very reminiscent of Excelsior. She still had an Oberth's canoe-like secondary hull and somehow had a superstructure from a Miranda.

While the loadout of firepower was very impressive, it actually stoked a different sort of anxiety in me. Every minute spent boasting of weapons, was another statement that this ship was still the same fragile flower Oberth with limited shields and blown glass like body beneath.

Peter picked up on my growing anxiety. He turned and looked at me, "What is it?"

"All your talk of weapons is making me concerned about her defensive systems." I replied grimly.

"Ah," Peter began, "I get it. The Grissom. We recovered Grissom's log buoy. She went down like a fighter with a glass jaw. Very Oberth-like. I can see why you would be concerned. I think I can offer you four bits of reassurance. However, I have to warn you, each one will be harder to believe than the last."

That made me raise my right eyebrow, but Peter began.

"First of all, Ticonderoga has more power available, is much faster, more maneuverable and better armed than a standard Oberth. All of those things will give her Captain more options. It's an accepted tactical truism that more options make a ship more survivable."

I gave Peter a look of profound skepticism. That was not a good way to begin his reply. It implied my worries were, essentially, justified. However, Peter persisted.

"Secondly, we haven't discussed them yet, but Ticonderoga has full shields not partial. Further, her shields have a stronger shield density than any ship in the fleet. Yes, Constitutions and Excelsiors have deeper energy wells, more powerful emitters and broader shields that can be moved around to protect the ship. However, they also have a lot more ship to protect. One of the main reasons we expanded the primary hull was so we could apply a higher proportion of ship's space than has ever been done before to shield coil. The shield coil literally runs around the entire primary hull. Takes up a lot of what would be considered premium space for quarters on most ships. There is a second shield coil in a spiral around the secondary hull no Oberth has ever had before. The shields are also the best shield tech currently available to the Federation, about two percent better than the shields on the Excelsiors which previously had been the best. Combined with the power the TCX core puts out, those shields should give you the ability to take a hit."

Now that was a good answer. It was hard to say how the shields would hold up in a real battle, but I couldn't have asked for much more than what Peter had just said. I nodded in acceptance. Still, even the best shields would have bleed through. While the shields might dissipate a substantial amount of an attack's kinetic energy, some energy would often bleed through. Five years past, and the memory of the Kobayashi Maru exercise with the ship blowing apart before the shields collapsed was still painfully fresh.

So, I asked, "What about bleed through?"

"Yeah, we were very aware of bleed through. This next bit's a bit harder to believe, but I assure you it's true. The hull and structure of this ship are all made from K-alloy."

Once again, I'm sure my face made a look of profound skepticism. It was almost the purview of fantasy to think someone could get enough K-alloy to make a belt for the warp core. For a whole ship, even a small one?

"I know, it's hard to believe. I called Admiral Kirk. I wanted to get enough K-alloy to put in lattices like they have on Constitution refits and Excelsiors. Okay, maybe a bit more. So, I started to talk to Kirk about it.

"'Finally,' he asks, 'so it would just be better if we could make the whole ship from K-alloy?'

"To which I respond as innocently as I could, 'Yes Sir.'

"He replies, 'How much K-alloy do you need to do that?'

"I give him a number. He then puts me on hold and calls the leader of New Kelva. Even though I'm on hold, I can still here their conversation. Kirk gets the leader of New Kelva, Rojan, on the line and tells him how much K-alloy he needs.

"The leader of New Kelva literally laughs at him in the face and, is like, 'No way.'"

At this point, I surmised Peter was paraphrasing.

"Then Kirk says, 'If I don't get that alloy, I am coming for a long visit until I do.'"

"Then the leader of New Kelva is like, 'Yeah, yeah, okay you can have it. It's coming right up.'

"I swear on my honor as a Star Fleet officer, that's how the conversation went. Then Enterprise went, got it, and then brought it here."

It was a little prosaic to think of a Constitution refit, particularly the Enterprise and commanded by an Admiral, and that Admiral, Kirk, doing something like carrying cargo. On the other hand, enough K-alloy to build this ship would be a fortune that would draw every treasure hunter in the galaxy. As hard as the idea was to accept that this ship's entire hull and frame could be made from K-alloy, assuming Peter wasn't pulling my leg, we would have to be relentlessly watching for other interests that might try to take all or part of the ship just for the metal. At the same time, there could be nothing better than a ship with a thick hull of K-alloy, at preventing bleed through.

I finally said, "That's hard to believe, but yes, a hull made of K-alloy would probably be the best thing we could hope for to prevent bleed through. You did mention one other thing?"

"Yes, but before that, I take you back to the impulse engines. This ship is a lot heavier than a standard Oberth. K-alloy is a lot heavier than diburnium. That was another reason for the upgraded impulse engines."

I gave him a look for stalling and said, "Fine, bigger impulse engines. What is the fourth thing?"

"Okay this last I know will be hard to believe. Maybe I shouldn't even bring it up, but yes, there is one more thing." Peter said, clearly somewhat reluctant. Then he paused.

If he was claiming that the ship was made of K-alloy, worth more than it's weight in dilithium crystals, I couldn't imagine what he would be scared of admitting now.

"I suppose I have to hear it." I said not sure what I was asking for.

"Okay, I'll say it then. I expect you're aware of the mystery of the Constitution class?" Peter asked.

"The mystery of the Constitution class," was one way people familiar with the issues of the introduction of the Constitution class referred to the problems I have previously described about them. Somehow, the Constitution class had managed to be this amazing ship, so good it had drowned out the need for a battleship or a destroyer/light cruiser. What made the Constitution class so good? The standard answer is that she was just a very elegant combination of the available resources that answered the needs of Star Fleet for a ship more efficiently than any other. It's like that in advanced math or physics, there may be a straightforward way to answer a problem, but from time to time, someone just finds a more elegant way to answer it. In ancient times, craft like the Douglas DC-3 air cargo plane, the Soviet T-34 tank and the McDonnell Douglas F-15 fighter all used the technology of their time but, because of amazingly elegant design, were dramatically better than their contemporary competitors. Still, ship designers couldn't leave it alone. They relentlessly reviewed the design of the Enterprise trying to glean a magical secret to her performance. I thought the whole thing was a bit silly.

Still, I responded, "Yes, I've heard of it."

Peter hung his head and said, "I think I found it."

If Peter had just said he had found special ship design guidance from the legendary off world colony of the Bigfoots, I could not have found his statement any less credible.

"I know. I know. I haven't told anyone else for just this reason. It sounds so crazy and presumptuous." Peter began.

"I have to agree." I replied.

"Just hear me out. I've spent a lot of time studying the Enterprise. Particularly when I was recovering from my burns and could do literally nothing else for weeks on end. I was completely immobilized, but they set me up with a system that would allow me to scroll the docs with eye movements. The medical people did everything they could for me, but those burns, with the radiation and the toxic chemicals burned into them, there was nothing they could do for the pain. Studying those plans and docs, it was the only thing that could distract me from the pain."

Well, so his belief that he had discovered the mystery of the Constitution class was some sort of pain delusion. Khan had put us all through a lot. I knew I still had my problems. I decided I would be sympathetic to Peter, not judge him, and pretend I believed him.

"After I had been studying the structural diagrams for a few hundred hours, I started to notice something."

No one studies structural diagrams, generally, at all. They are slightly more boring than watching grass grow or paint dry. Peter must have been in a lot of pain.

"I started noticing little details. Details most people would have missed. Most Star Fleet vessels are designed like commercial ships. At a high level, but commercial ships. It's safe and reliable and no one is going to lose their job for doing it that way. You know though, as a teenager, I was into pod-ship racing?" Peter suddenly changed the subject.

"I believe you have mentioned that in the past." I replied mystified by the change in subject.

"Well, I studied structural design for race vehicles during that time. Built my own pod-ship. Even won some races. Most Star Fleet people never study racing structural design. Structural design is a big subject. A lot of folks, well, they don't find it fascinating the way some of us do."

That was an understatement.

"So, they just learn the standard commercial structural methods Star Fleet normally uses and teaches. If that's all they did, even if they reviewed the structural diagrams, they wouldn't see what I saw. Whoever did the Constitution class' structural design used racing ship methods. Racing structure is more efficient, stronger, but it's considered too experimental. Might not notice a fault until you got to a later stage in development. If someone made a mistake in structural design, and a failure in structural design would always be considered a mistake by the structural designer, that failure is likely to cost six months or a year delay, maybe a hundred billion Credits. Someone's getting fired. But if it works, you get the Constitution class.

"I looked up who the structural designer was on the Enterprise. It was a person named Kelly Johnson. He was a racer. Won the Federation Amateur Cup three times. Died the fourth time. While leading the race. He definitely used racing design in the Constitutions. I think that was part of the reason they were delayed. He did have a glitch. Still, they were able to fix it. That was one of the famous delays.

"I reviewed what Johnson did on the Constitutions. I updated it a bit based on things we've learned in the last forty years. I used it on Ticonderoga. Don't worry. I must have done it right; Ticonderoga has already checked out. Still, Ticonderoga should have that same advantage."

"I hope you're right." I said.

I didn't think he had found some magic lost mystery. At the same time, as long as Ticonderoga had checked out structurally, it hadn't hurt. So, no harm done.

"I'll send some docs to your account so you can review what I did. In case you have any questions." Peter volunteered.

I was about to have him not bother, inevitably they would involve review of structural details. I'm sure there were still cabins with wet paint I could watch dry and it would be a better and more interesting use of my time, but before I could stop him.

"They're all sent. Unless you have more questions, you may wish to continue your tour from the inside of the ship." Peter offered.

"That sounds good. Take us back in." I replied. I had a lot to digest.

*** And now a word from our sponsor! ***

If you enjoy Star Wars and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three Star Wars novels I have written, all called Legend of the Harp also available on this site!

If you enjoy modern urban fantasy and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three novels I have written based on the Dresden Files universe of Jim Butcher, called Warlock of Omaha, Warlock of Omaha Squared and Warlock of Omaha Cubed!

This writer, like the storyteller in the market of old, now has a hat out hoping for a small gratuity. There is no obligation and I'm grateful you took a moment to read. However, if my writing has found favor in your eyes, please take a moment to go to:

Pay

Pal

.me

/hemaccabe

and throw in a little something, a dime, a quarter, a dollar, etc.

While I love to write, I do have a spouse and a child and a job and many other claims on my time that don't understand why I would spend so many hours banging on a keyboard. A small tangible return would help smooth the way to allow me to provide many more stories.

Please help. Thank-you.


	14. Chapter 14

**Star Trek Lost Destiny**

**By Hemaccabe**

**Book I: Race of Death**

**Chapter 14: A Strong Shield**

**ALL RIGHTS RESERVED**

(Authors Note: I expect most people reading this are serious Star Trek geeks, or Trekkers, as I self-identify. So, I take for granted that you will know certain terms or can figure out how to google them in this age when you are almost certainly reading this on a computer of some sort and found my writing with google.

Still, for those who don't know, on a typical Star Fleet vessel, like the Enterprise, the primary hull is the round saucer section in the front. The secondary hull is the barrel shaped section below. The neck is the connection between the two. The engine struts are what hold the engines to the secondary hull. The warp engines are those large chicken legs or wings that extend to the rear.

I also wanted to address naming conventions. I'm not expecting to have to name too many ships through the course of this novel or it's possible sequels. However, I'm obviously not following the names in most widely used resources for these ships, mostly because I hate them. In Lost Destiny, one will find that Excelsiors are named for battleships, Constitutions will be named for carriers and Oberth names will depend on their sub-type. Other ships and classes that appear, we'll see. To be chosen by me as a namesake, the ship in question will have to have been notable, distinguished and/or have an honorable service history. At the risk of being too political, part of having an honorable service history means she did not serve evil regimes here on Earth. That means no Nazi, Communist or current Russian, Communist Chinese or Imperial Japanese ships will ever be so honored. To be in successful service to an evil regime is not to be honorable, but infamous. So, no Bismarcks or Yamatos.)

With that, Peter guided the travel pod with practiced skill back to the ship and docked us to Ticonderoga's lone port side hatch.

"One thing you'll need to think about Captain is whether to take this travel pod." Peter mentioned.

"Oh?" I replied, probably sounding quite in command.

"Yeah, it's at your discretion. Ticonderoga doesn't have much of a shuttle bay. She has a single tight slot, on the starboard side aft of the secondary hull with just enough room for the single worker bee in it. If you take the travel pod, it has to ride out here, somewhat awkwardly, on our single outside hatch. That means access to that hatch will be an issue if we need to use it for something else. On the other hand, it will double our shuttle fleet. Just let me know before we go. I can leave her snugged up or park her here at the yard.

"Unfortunately, the warp shuttle has to remain with the yard. She's assigned to the yard and we have no practical way to take it." Peter explained.

"I'll think about it and let you know before we leave." I answered.

To which Peter replied "Aye, Aye Captain."

We re-entered the ship and were in Engineering once again where we were joined by Rachel.

I looked around the warp core room again and noticed there was a high shelf with live flowers running the circumference of the space.

"What are those flowers?" I asked. Engineers don't have to be rugged tech nerds, but they don't tend to get sentimental about flowers.

"Oh, that's part of life support," Peter explained, "it's a closed cell aquaponic system. It takes a little maintenance, but it also means we get fresh fruits, vegetables, fresh herbs and real fish from time to time. We don't have space on this little ship for a garden like Enterprise or the little forest park they have on Excelsiors, so I thought this might help aesthetically as well. Every plant was selected for being high yield. However, we can also get versions that flower nicely in Engineering's perpetual summer conditions. I try to make each cubic centimeter earn it's pay. Also, us dirty engineers don't mind having a few nice flowers about."

That was a clever and excellent use of space.

While not as glamorous as warp cores and phaser cannons, every Starship needed a life support system. Most pictures of Life Support show a pretty desk with a chair and a computer workstation. The reality was a bit more prosaic. On every ship, actual life support was a large space with a lot of tanks that generally would not smell so nice. In the old days, it would have been called a sewage treatment plant.

All the ship's biological waste would be piped there and go into tanks with carefully selected, genetically engineered microbes that would break the waste down and compost it. Then the waste would be fed to other tanks of phyto-algae and phytoplankton which would use the biomass to fuel growth allowing photosynthesis which converted waste carbon dioxide into breathable oxygen.

At the end of the tank chain, might be some extras like a closed cell aquaponic system, shrimp tanks or gardens like Peter had mentioned among other things depending on budget and space.

Another basic feature of Life Support was that the algae and plankton would also be harvested and processed becoming what was commonly known as algae paste, the largest basic ingredient of food eaten aboard.

Peter added usefully at that moment, "When I was back on Earth picking you up, I also brought enough secondary synthesizer ingredients to top us off."

The food synthesizers would use the secondary ingredients Peter had just mentioned, mix and prep them with the algae/plankton paste and make things that looked like chicken sandwiches or other food one might be familiar with. The programing, recipes and functionality of the synthesizers were good, but they never produced something so good one didn't know one was eating an artificial substitute. Which is why supplies of fresh food were good for morale.

"Speaking of Life Support, where's it kept on this ship?" I asked. On Grissom, it was where the warp core was on Ticonderoga. I thought I knew the layout of the secondary hull on this ship based on what I had already seen, there was a navigational deflector forward, a bank of phaser cannons to the rear and giant warp core in the middle. That didn't leave much room left. Life Support, with her wonderful smells, generally lived in the secondary hull. I was wondering if the tanks had moved up to the primary hull?

Rachel replied, "Oh, they're right nearby. You should see this. It's amazing."

I had never heard the word "amazing" used to describe Life Support.

"Okay, lead on." I acquiesced.

Rachel led Peter and me into the compartment directly forward of the warp core. Where I expected to find the navigational deflector.

As the door halves slid open, they did reveal the interior of the navigational deflector. I made note; it was a Jepsen X-90-III. Small, but very capable, not a cheap economy model. However, much more impressive, was the placement of life support.

Artificial gravity had been understood since before the first Star Fleet vessel. NCC-101 Enterprise had it. However, it was almost always oriented in a simple up and down way. Life Support would fill long halls or empty flat spaces. The bigger the ship, the more crew, the more tanks and space Life Support would demand.

What was amazing was that the deflector space, also a traditional space hog, had been combined with life support. The deflector was a large round cylinder, perhaps a meter and a half in diameter. It floated through the middle of the space attached securely to the walls by large struts. The tanks for Life Support were arrayed all around the barrel shaped space. They climbed the walls, wrapped around and above the deflector and came back the other side. Essentially, they filled all the floor, wall and ceiling with the necessary tanks. Rachel led me up a little transitional ramp and we could walk around the walls of the space as the artificial gravity clearly wrapped around the room. This meant the Life Support tanks, still firmly attached to their 'floor' with struts and braces, were also held in place by gravity. By the time I walked halfway around, I was upside down in relation to the door I had entered by. I laughed out loud.

It was a brilliant bit of simple three-dimensional thinking. It allowed double use of the same space.

"This is really impressive; it should be shared. Imagine if they could reclaim space like this on the next Excelsior?" I announced.

Rachel laughed with me. "It is pretty impressive isn't it? Still, I'd imagine you'd like to continue your tour. We could take you back to the rear of the secondary hull, there's a bank of phaser cannons, a slot for the worker bee, some quarters and a small rec area, or we could, as I would recommend, go straight up to the primary hull? I know eventually you'll want to inspect every cubic centimeter of your command, maybe several times, but for now? Your choice."

It was an easy choice, "Lead on to the primary hull."

Rachel led me back into main Engineering and onto a turbolift.

It was a short ride up to the primary hull.

Rachel began, "This is Deck D. There are seven decks in the primary hull, up from the normal three one gets with an Oberth. The primary houses most of what you would normally expect in a primary. I'm sure you'll want to see your quarters, office and the Bridge soon, but there's something I want to show you here."

I wasn't sure what Rachel was about to show us, but I had a new hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Ticonderoga was well built and shielded; I saw that now. I wasn't sure how Peter's racing structure would affect anything, but heavy shields and a K-alloy hull would make this ship as tough as nails, tougher actually. She was also armed to the teeth. These were good things. Unfortunately, they tended to argue what I feared before about the Monitor subclass ships and Ares before. This would be a pure warship, which would be great if we were in battle but painfully boring and undesirable duty for the other 99.9% of life.

I was about to voice my concerns when Rachel said something else that made it worse.

"I know Peter just mentioned that we don't have a garden or park like on bigger ships. You may want to consider this when deciding on shore leave options."

The classic Ares-like spartan living.

Shore leave was also a difficult subject for a ship's Captain because he or she would end up the fulcrum between two heavily weighted sides on the scale. On the one hand, Star Fleet vessels were a scarce resource and in relentlessly short supply. Star Fleet, and the Federation, always had at least three other things they would want to use any given starship for. That was one of the driving reasons for the Oberth. She was small and weak, but small also meant cheap to build and operate. Her development costs had long since been paid. Her crew was small, which was also very important because nothing was as expensive as crew in a ship's budget, by a long shot. Further, crew was also a scarce resource. There was only so much skilled crew available to Star Fleet at any given time. Every mission an Oberth could take care of freed a major capital ship for something more important. How many times had Star Fleet emergency orders begun with, "You're the only ship in the sector?"

So, an ambitious Captain that wanted to try and make her mark, would want to keep her ship out as much as possible. Never knew which mission one might draw that would be the one that made her reputation.

On the other hand, a good Captain loved her crew. I already knew and cared deeply for a surprising number of the assigned crew. A competent Captain, even if she didn't care personally about her crew, knew that crew morale and efficiency went down the longer they were cooped up on a ship. Since getting many places already took months, they had to put up with a lot of being cooped up. This problem could be lessened on a large vessel which might have a larger, more diverse social scene, with greater opportunities for distraction, and a much lower cost per crewmember for recreational facilities on board. However, Ticonderoga was a little ship, with limited recreational opportunities. Which meant I would have to be more sensitive to the need for shore leave.

Heavily armed, well shielded and spartan living conditions. It was sounding more like the Ares all the time.

I announced, "I'm concerned this ship sounds more and more like it's a purpose-built warship?"

Rachel nodded, "I guess it could sound that way. We do have an astrogation department, it's tiny and has only two crew assigned, but it's there. We also have a general physics lab with no assigned crew, also small, but present, and a biolab attached to sickbay."

Then Rachel turned to Peter and said, "Why don't you tell her about our scanners?"

Peter smiled again, which I was seeing was a sign he was getting to show off what he thought was a really cool toy.

"We're equipped with the AN/SPY-1 scanner system. First ship in the fleet." Peter announced.

I had heard of the AN/SPY-1 system. It was supposed to be able to provide some of the most intense and broad band scanning available, while using it's thousands of emitters at just above background radiation level so the scanners would be hard for an enemy to detect.

As I was digesting that last bit of information, Rachel piped up, "That's the reason I signed on."

I had been wondering. Rachel was amazingly accomplished. She could have had her pick of choice posts. Why was she here?

"You signed on because of the scanners?" I asked.

"No, even though AN/SPY-1 is quite a draw. I would also point out that while AN/SPY-1 is primarily a military system, it should be excellent for studying a wide range of natural phenomena as well, in ways they have never been before. We should be able to resolve some amazing data out there. The reason I signed on is that there is only one ship's computer system that can run the AN/SPY-1, AEGIS." Rachel explained.

That explained a lot. AEGIS was Star Fleet's new supercomputer system. After the failure of multitronics, it had taken years for Federation computer science to recover. Now they were back with pentatronics.

After the failure of Daystrum's M-5, there had been endless trials to get a multitronic system to work. Some had worked well, briefly, but they had always collapsed within days. Still multitronics had been so promising, it was hard to let go. The M-5's failure had been catastrophic, but the promise of a ship the size of a Constitution class that could be run with less than twenty crew? The way M-5 had fought. Outnumbered four to one, it had destroyed Excalibur and crippled Lexington. I don't think anyone who reviewed that incident would think that, if the M-5 had kept fighting, it would have had any difficulty destroying the remaining ships.

The M-5 had been a disaster of epic proportions and a major part of why new technology was now tested with ships like Oberths, not Constitutions. Part of the M-5 disaster was in no small part due to Commodore Wesley's overly ambitious testing schedule.

After M-5's failure, endless researchers went down the rabbit hole hoping that just one more tweak, nudge, optimization and they could make multitronics work. They never did. However, that realization, like transwarp, had taken a long time.

Duotronics was based on requiring each node in a computer system to link with only two other nodes. This meant failures could be quickly identified and easily contained. The systems could be very responsive, though not quite sapient. Multitronic systems allowed for unlimited random connections. While it sounded good in theory, potentially orders of magnitude more powerful, closer to sapience, smarter, faster, no multitronic system had managed to go more than seventy-two hours before becoming "eccentric."

Pentatronics increased the node connections by three. Like duotronics, the connections were also not random and constantly reassigning. Still, they could run stably and were substantially more capable than a duotronic system. AEGIS was the first pentatronic system approved for military use.

Peter mentioned with a smug smile, "They were looking for an Oberth to test AEGIS on, and I happened to let them know we were available."

Rachel continued, "Star Fleet's Office of Strategic Threats has been seriously considering the possibility that either one of our existing adversaries or a new adversary may attempt a strategy of a large number of torpedoes and/or small attack ships that might be able to flood the defenses of a conventional starship like an Excelsior. A primary mission anticipated for Ticonderoga was always meant to be as a good stablemate for Excelsior class ships as part of a task group. With AEGIS, we would be able to coordinate defense for the whole group. AEGIS would be able to take control of all defensive weapons in the group and target incoming torpedoes and ships."

"More accurately than their human operators?"

"Human operators couldn't coordinate quickly enough. They would miss some targets and duplicate attacks on others and yes, M-5 accurately."

One of the reasons M-5 had been so deadly was that a normal sentient being operating ship's weapons would miss sometimes, even with computer lock. There were many reasons for this including the limits of sensors, the distances involved, the unpredictability of a target executing evasive maneuvers, and yes, human error. M-5, on the other hand, had apparently solved those problems. M-5 hit it's targets first time, every time.

That was a little scary, but also very impressive. Still, with the labs and this sensor suite, we wouldn't have to be relegated to endless military patrol. It took discipline for me not show how relieved I was.

*** And now a word from our sponsor! ***

If you enjoy Star Wars and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three Star Wars novels I have written, all called Legend of the Harp also available on this site!

If you enjoy modern urban fantasy and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three novels I have written based on the Dresden Files universe of Jim Butcher, called Warlock of Omaha, Warlock of Omaha Squared and Warlock of Omaha Cubed!

This writer, like the storyteller in the market of old, now has a hat out hoping for a small gratuity. There is no obligation and I'm grateful you took a moment to read. However, if my writing has found favor in your eyes, please take a moment to go to:

Pay

Pal

.me

/hemaccabe

and throw in a little something, a dime, a quarter, a dollar, etc.

While I love to write, I do have a spouse and a child and a job and many other claims on my time that don't understand why I would spend so many hours banging on a keyboard. A small tangible return would help smooth the way to allow me to provide many more stories.

Please help. Thank-you.


	15. Chapter 15

**Star Trek Lost Destiny**

**By Hemaccabe**

**Book I: Race of Death**

**Chapter 15: Welcome to the Bridge**

**ALL RIGHTS RESERVED**

Rachel and Peter then took me on a quick tour of remaining systems. I saw the coil for the shields, it was thick and ran around the outside edge of the primary hull. I saw two of the six scanner installations for the AN/SPY-1 sensors, forward top and forward bottom. They sat where a normal ship's sensor bells would typically live. (Author's Note: If you've ever wondered what those glowy domes were at the center of the top and bottom of the primary hull? I'm answering it for Lost Destiny, they are a typical ship's, like Enterprise, sensor bells. What are sensor bells? Wait for later.) There were also two scanner installations on the superstructure, one port and one starboard. Stern starboard and port were mounted toward the rear of the engine nacelles facing outboard and were only accessible via shuttlecraft or transporter, so I didn't bother. Strangely, the rear four sensor installations all looked like vented rectangular boxes.

I also visited the computer core, very impressive. Three decks of blinking lights.

As I learned more about Ticonderoga, I was learning more about Peter. I knew he was brave from how he had been injured on Enterprise. The video footage of his actions survived. I had watched it. He had probably, in that single moment, saved the ship, knowing he was going to die doing it. He had been awarded the Karagite Order of Heroism. He should have gotten the Medal of Honor.

I didn't know if he was going to be able to live up to his uncle's reputation for pulling off engineering repair miracles, but I suspected he might.

What I did know was, he was a champion scrounger. In any military organization, there is always a scarcity of resources. This scarcity is compounded by a system that frequently makes requisitioning those resources highly difficult and complex. Some people just have a natural talent for working the system for their benefit. Peter was clearly one of those people. Peter had obviously wanted to build his fantasy Starship and he had succeeded. He had acquired allies, but also figured out how to dangle carrots in front of just the right peoples' noses to get the crazy variety of exotic systems he wanted. I'm sure these abilities depended on an encyclopedic knowledge of what systems existed throughout the Federation, and perhaps, beyond. It also required an incredible vision of how those technological systems could go together and what could be accomplished if they were, with the occasional dash of genius like he had shown with Life Support.

Some of the acquisitions, even though they were dazzling, made sense. The K-alloy might make it seem like the ship had been assembled in the mythical Seven Cities of Gold. However, I knew there was an intense, relentless, ongoing effort to increase the infrastructure on New Kelva to allow more K-alloy production. In addition, there was an ongoing effort to learn how to use K-alloy within the Federation's already existing technology infrastructure. It might seem one could just yell, "Swap all the diburnium for K-alloy!" However, the reality was far more complicated.

Which is why the first ship with a K-alloy hull and structure would be something like Ticonderoga. While it was far more K-alloy than had every been assigned to one project before, Ticonderoga was still a tiny ship. Even with her much larger primary hull and longer engine nacelles, she would still be shorter than the diameter of Enterprise's primary hull and tiny next to Dreadnought's.

I wondered if I was the final accessory Peter had acquired for his perfect ship? If so, could I live up to his and everyone else's expectations?

I told Peter, "Leave the travel pod behind. Then assume your post in Engineering."

Peter smiled, saluted and said, "Aye Aye, Captain."

Then he was off.

(Authors Note: At this point I've introduced Ticonderoga's look and most of her major systems. I love technical descriptions, but I know this may have been somewhat dry for others. If so, thanks for hanging in there. Now the obvious question to me is, "Is Ticonderoga too good? Is she the Mary Sue of ships?" To some extent, probably. Since I'm writing this for myself and enjoying my fantasy wish fulfillment, I'm okay with that. However, in my, and Tico's, defense I'll point out that all the systems deployed fit within the Star Trek world and we're five years after the introduction of the Excelsior. Technology would have continued improving during that time. We also, generally, want to hear the story of hero ships, not tugboats and river barges. The biggest issue is the K-alloy. I'll point out that even Mr. Scott's Guide to the Enterprise played with K-alloy, albeit while misspelling "Kelvans." I'll also point out that I've created a plausible explanation for why the K-alloy is being used on Tico the way it is. It's actually a reasonable way for something like K-alloy to be released reflecting a slowly developing production infrastructure, the need to integrate into existing Federation technology and the small size of the ship. At least, that's my story and I'm sticking to it!)

As I continued my tour, I learned Deck A, the highest deck on Ticonderoga, was the Bridge, which was normal on Starfleet vessels. My quarters were on Deck B. I saw my luggage had been placed thoughtfully just inside the door. I liked the layout of my quarters. I had expected a small, tight box with barely room for a bunk. Instead, these quarters were reminiscent of the luxuriously large, two room, senior officer/VIP guest quarters on Enterprise. Unlike the senior officer quarters on Enterprise, whose layout suffered from multiple refits, the layout of my two room quarters on Ticonderoga were far more sensible.

The room one entered from the corridor had food, desk and communications equipment. Appropriate for if I wanted guests over, or perhaps, to use the room as an alternate office. The back compartment had bed, clothing storage, refresher and lav, including a very nice soaking tub.

Unfortunately, because of the position of Deck B on the ship, rather than have windows, I had skylights in both rooms.

Deck B seemed, like most Starfleet vessels, the location for most senior officer quarters, which made sense. One wanted them close to the Bridge if there was a crisis. There was also a conference room.

Finally, after a quick refresh in my quarter's lav, we made our way to Deck A. There was a small corridor behind the Bridge which gave access to my office. While my office was small, it did have a nice window behind the desk. There was also a large viewscreen to the right of my desk as I sat behind it.

On the corridor wall between my office and the Bridge was a wonderful dedication plaque showing all the ships that had previously been named Ticonderoga. There was the early nineteenth century schooner, the later nineteenth century sloop, the early twentieth century freighter, the mid-twentieth century aircraft carrier, the late twentieth century cruiser and the Enterprise class United Earth ship.

I knew Ticonderoga was mostly named for the two last ships, with a role similar to the cruiser's. The Enterprise class Ticonderoga had been built in the first year of the Earth-Romulan War and lost in the second while being commanded by a Captain Stiles.

(Authors Note: ST: Enterprise references an EAS Ticonderoga freighter. This isn't completely unreasonable, there was an early twentieth century freighter named Ticonderoga. However, the description above is canon for Lost Destiny. No EAS Ticonderoga freighter. Sorry.)

In the upper left corner of the plaque, there was a small amount of imagery in the brass relief frame showing an early nineteenth century fort being stormed, reflecting the source of the name Ticonderoga. In the upper right corner were some early nineteenth century cannons reflecting how the capture of Ticonderoga had allowed Knox to break the siege of Boston.

After taking too long to stare at the plaque, I let Rachel lead me on to the Bridge.

The first thing I noticed were the helmsman and navigator.

The helmsman was James!

Even more amazing, the navigator was Jascha Andreievich Chekov!

(Author's note: Joshua Andrew Koenig never, to my knowledge, had a part in Star Trek. Certainly not a substantial one. However, he was the beautiful child of one of the main actors in Star Trek, the only one I have ever met in person. It was not a long meeting, but Walter was the soul of grace, patience and kindness during that meeting and I treasure that memory. I would have loved to see Andrew Koenig included in a Star Trek episode or movie as a relation of Pavel Chekov's or to reprise the role of Chekov himself. Anton Yelchin, also tragically lost, did a wonderful job in a frequently awful production. One wonders what those movies would have been like with Andrew Koenig playing that role? Still, this character is included as a tribute to Joshua Andrew Koenig, a beautiful soul taken from us all too soon.)

They both saluted crisply. Now I knew where James had disappeared to the week before. Obviously, he had just been assigned to this ship.

Jascha was a Second Year when I was in my Fourth at the Academy. We had been good friends.

I was starting to understand something about this ship.

The bridge crew of the Enterprise had formed very tight bonds during their famous Five-Year Mission. They had chosen to continue to serve together for many years afterward, even though many of them could have sought promotion and to extend their careers on other assignments. They had families of their own, but they also had remained a family. There were frequent visits and get togethers. I knew Rachel, Kiki, Jascha and Peter from before the Academy. They were like cousins. They had accepted me at first because I was Spock's adopted daughter and later for myself.

Perhaps part of the reason Admiral Kirk gave this ship such a blank check was that he wanted the family of his crew to be safe.

It was no longer time for wondering.

I crisply returned their salutes then moved purposefully and sat in the Captain's chair. Rachel took the Comms station above and behind me to port.

I looked around the Bridge. It was very similar to Grissom's, and, for that matter, Enterprise's. It was a standard layout. However, unlike Grissom's bridge with her pastel colors and pink upholstery, this Bridge had brown Corinthian leather seats with a brushed dark copper metal trim. She also had chairs that looked designed to be rugged and protect the crew sitting in them during high G maneuvers and impacts. In some places, like the bannisters separating the lower bridge from the upper, the trim was apparently made of mahogany wood. I had never seen such decorating choices. I found them quite agreeable.

I could hear Rachel coordinating the counting down of the endless checklists that would need to be cleared for the ship to move. I could hear Peter on the other side of her console doing the same in Engineering.

"I have the Con." I announced. Then I activated shipwide with the button on my armrest.

"All stations, prepare for unmooring."

Then I deactivated shipwide.

"Mr. Crater, inform me when all stations show ready."

Rachel replied, "Aye Aye, Sir."

"Mr. Chekov, prepare a course to Earth." I ordered and got Jascha's "Aye Aye."

A sloppy two minutes and nineteen seconds later, Rachel reported, "All stations show ready for unmooring."

"Mr. Crater release all moorings."

"All moorings released."

"Helm, reverse thrusters please."

James replied, unhooking the ship from her moorings with a quick competent reverse, "Reverse thrusters, Aye."

"Mr. Winter, one quarter impulse, take us out of space dock if you please."

James acknowledged with an "One quarter impulse, Aye." and took us out slowly.

Once we were clear of Space Dock, I ordered, "Mr. Winter, I want one quarter impulse for the first hour, half impulse for the second and three quarters for the remainder. Mr. Crater, you have the Con."

I'm not sure what I expected. This was the second time I had piloted a ship from Space Dock, actually, the same dock as the last time, though this time the Dock's location had been moved substantially and I was in a very different ship.

I remembered the first time. I had been so excited, I had felt like there was a symphony of excited woodwinds in my chest, but also proud and confident. This time, it was like I was executing a chore.

I had set the course I had because the ship was brand new and had untested impulse engines. They would need to be worked in. There were thousands of other systems equally untested, and more importantly, connected to and depending on one another, all of which was also untested. If something was to go wrong, I'd rather it be at one quarter impulse here in Sol system than at warp eight somewhere in the great beyond.

Since I had handed off the con, I repaired to my quarters. I undressed and felt comfortable for the first time in the over twelve hours it had been since I had arrived at Ticonderoga. I then put the uniform in the refresher, also in the sleeping area. Got something to eat for the first time since the night before from the synthesizer in my quarters, very convenient. I made a note to include food in ceremonial activities and schedules. Then I took a shower and had a nap.

A few hours later, I rose, had another shower, got another meal, dressed in my refreshed uniform, primped and went to my office.

I sat at the desk, initiated the workstation to myself so I could be sure it was secure and transferred my files from my personal clip tablet. I put my two commendations up on the wall. The Grankite Order closer to the person sitting before my desk. I am not immune to a bit of ego.

I reviewed the crew of the ship. Obviously, the crew assigned assumed certain positions for Rachel, Peter, James, Kiki and Jascha. Assuming I accepted them, and of course I would, I would have a First Officer, Chief of Communications, Chief of Engineering, Chief Helmsman, Chief Medical Officer and Chief Navigator. My only senior posts that were unfilled were Chief Science Officer and Chief of Security. We were on our way to Earth to pick them up with the rest of the crew.

Still, I called them in, one by one, to my office, interviewed them and offered them their positions. Rachel was the only Lieutenant Commander on the ship other than Kiki, had the most experience in a command track position, even though Communications was still, nominally, part of Engineering and Support so in her formal uniform, she wore a red collar. Still, she happily accepted the position of First Officer which she had expected.

They each gracefully accepted their new assignments.

*** And now a word from our sponsor! ***

If you enjoy Star Wars and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three Star Wars novels I have written, all called Legend of the Harp also available on this site!

If you enjoy modern urban fantasy and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three novels I have written based on the Dresden Files universe of Jim Butcher, called Warlock of Omaha, Warlock of Omaha Squared and Warlock of Omaha Cubed!

This writer, like the storyteller in the market of old, now has a hat out hoping for a small gratuity. There is no obligation and I'm grateful you took a moment to read. However, if my writing has found favor in your eyes, please take a moment to go to:

Pay

Pal

.me

/hemaccabe

and throw in a little something, a dime, a quarter, a dollar, etc.

While I love to write, I do have a spouse and a child and a job and many other claims on my time that don't understand why I would spend so many hours banging on a keyboard. A small tangible return would help smooth the way to allow me to provide many more stories.

Please help. Thank-you.


	16. Chapter 16

**Star Trek Lost Destiny**

**By Hemaccabe**

**Book I: Race of Death**

**Chapter 16: Torrid Affair**

**ALL RIGHTS RESERVED**

(Author's Note: In almost every Star Trek tale, really every sci fi tale, the new ship is being raced out of production immediately into crises and action. ST II: TWOK is about a Cadet crewed ship being ordered out from Sol as the only available ship in the sector. I'm starting in a more prosaic way, letting Ticonderoga go through more normal evolutions to be ready for service. There's good reason for the normal storytelling device I'm not using, it allows all this procedural detail to be ignored and to get right to the action. I hope I'm not boring you. I know I'm enjoying it, I hope you will too. I find it fascinating to consider what a ship would go through as it gets ready for service normally. If you have any ideas for steps I'm missing, please feel free to mention them politely. Perhaps I'll even write them into a revised edition?)

As we were getting close to Earth, I went and got something to eat again. Then I returned to the Bridge.

Once again, I sat in my chair and announced, "I have the Con. Mr. Winters please put us in an approved Earth orbit."

Some systems wouldn't care what orbit a ship dropped into. However, Earth has a lot of orbital traffic and a very sophisticated Space Route Traffic Control. Orbits have to be managed or ships would be slamming into each other on a regular basis. Comms called and got our orbit. I listened and made sure Rachel was getting an orbit that would allow us to beam up our crew. She did.

We moved smoothly into one of the Star Fleet exclusive geo-stationary orbits above San Francisco in plenty of range for transporters. I had noticed Ticonderoga had only a single personnel transporter and a single cargo transporter. Larger ships would have many. One of each would be plenty for us, we were a small ship.

"Inform Mr. Preston he may transport any remaining necessary stores. Also, Mr. Crater, please inform me when all cargo has been successfully beamed aboard."

We were directly above a primary ship's stores quartermaster facility. We had an order on file for nearly all remaining needed supplies. The order would already be palletized into cargo transporter sized pallets, ready to beam aboard. It would take some effort on the part of the crew, most likely Mr. Preston's engineering gang, to break down each pallet, get it stowed properly and get the next pallet up.

"Have Mr. Preston inform me when all supplies are aboard and stowed. I will be in the personnel transporter room. Mr. Crater, you have the Con."

With that, I got up and went to the Personnel Transporter room.

The transporter technician on duty was just beaming up the first group of new crew.

Ticonderoga's regular planned crew compliment was expected to be seventy-eight. We had forty-two aboard. The final thirty-six, not needed to finish construction and making our way back to Earth had been gathered for us at Star Fleet Headquarters.

Not having those thirty-six aboard during construction meant those personnel could be used in other tasks, including the rare opportunity for some shore leave. The cost of crew, being so dear, meant every effort had to be made to insure that each minute of Star Fleet personnel's time was used well.

As the first seven crew materialized, the transporter technician operating the transporter announced, "Captain on Deck!"

The seven new crew snapped out salutes, which I returned and announced, "Welcome aboard Ticonderoga. See a yeoman if you need help finding your quarters. Check your coms for your schedule."

During the time in my office, I had worked out crew quarter assignments. There were a few crew who had mysteriously found their way into quarters they didn't belong, probably due to the informal nature and exigencies of construction. They had all begun moving to their new permanent quarters. I had also made assignments for the crew we were taking aboard now.

I had also taken the moment to assign all crew to shifts. There were different ways to assign shifts. I used Dreadnought's and Captain Bacon's system of two shifts each taking twelve of Star Fleet's twenty-four hour day scedule. I had found that system seemed to work well, though I had heard of ships that used three shift and even four shift schedules. However, I didn't have enough crew to assign shorter shifts, so with two shifts we would go.

The seven new crew shuffled with their luggage off the transporter and the next group arrived.

We repeated the transporter ritual five times. On the sixth transport, there was only a single crew member to beam up. When he arrived, I was very surprised. It was Dr. David Marcus!

(Author's note: This is my final tribute character. We were all just getting comfortable with the idea that Kirk could have a son, then he was taken from us. Merritt Butrick's portrayal seemed like the perfect combination. Carol Marcus was legendary as Kirk's one true love who had gotten away. The idea that they could have had a son together was incredibly plausible. Merritt Butrick's portrayal was the perfect combination of Shatner and Bibi Besch who makes the perfect grown up Carol. He would have been an awesome character to have built into a new Star Trek series with Saavik. Unfortunately, like Dr. David, Merritt Butrick was also taken from us all too soon. This character's inclusion in this story is a tribute to honor the memory Merritt Butrick, a beautiful soul who was taken from us all too soon.

The events covered in Star Trek III: The Search for Spock start within moments of the ending of ST: II TWOK. All of the events of ST III: TSFS seem to happen in a very short time period. In Lost Destiny, I have stretched that time period, so it now covers two years. If I ever feel it's necessary for the story to explain that period in more detail, I will. Beyond the time period taking longer, the other main differences are that Enterprise suffers more damage but is not destroyed and is eventually repaired. David is grievously wounded but recovers.)

The ritual proceeded, but when Dr. David Marcus, now Ensign Doctor David Marcus, began to ask the yeoman for help, I stepped in.

I stopped the yeoman with, "That's all right. I'll show Dr. Marcus to his quarters."

The Yeoman, surprised, saluted. I returned the salute. Then turned to David and said, "This way."

I led him to the turbolift which took a long time to come. That wasn't surprising. There were a lot of people moving around and only a single turbolift shaft for the whole ship. I had staggered shifts in different departments so as to normally avoid a massive changeover traffic jam for just this reason.

"I see you're now an Ensign." I assayed.

He smiled. Oh, he had such a nice smile. It went well with how good he looked in a formal uniform. I would have to control myself.

"I needed to figure out a second act. I have a lot of degrees. However, they all came some time ago. I've been working on _that _project since. Then I was wounded, and I spent a long time at Walter Reed recovering. Since _that_ project has, for all practical purposes, ended, I need to find something else to do with myself. I can't really discuss _that_ project with most sources of potential fellowships. To the interviewers for potential academic positions, it seems like I have been idle since earning my last degree which doesn't look good.

"I decided that it might not be so bad to get out and see the galaxy a bit close up. Maybe something will inspire me? So, I enlisted in Star Fleet. I'm sure they're happy to have me where they can keep an eye on me considering my knowledge of _that_ project. I'd also like to think my other qualifications would make me desirable to Star Fleet as well."

I knew Dr. Marcus had, among other degrees, two PhDs and was also an MD. So, it was safe to say he was someone Star Fleet would be glad to recruit.

With that bit of conversation, we got to his quarters on Deck B, which were right next to mine. When I had done the assignments, I hadn't planned it that way. The quarters were empty, and I had reserved them for the Chief Science Officer. Dr. Marcus had clearly been assigned to us as Chief Science Officer.

I simply said, "Join us on the Bridge when you've had a moment to get settled."

I had served with Dr. Marcus on Grissom. More accurately, Grissom and I had been made available to Dr. Marcus to monitor and investigate the outcome of the use of the Genesis Device. Dr. Marcus' mother, Dr. Carol Marcus, let us know she'd had enough of space for a while and had returned to Earth where she had accepted a lecturing position at a university called the "Technion."

On Grissom, Dr. Marcus and I had been assigned to adjoining quarters which was not surprising considering how tight an Oberth normally is for any space. Our quarters were similar to what one might get as a junior officer or crewman on a Constitution refit like Enterprise. We each got a small private room with a bunk. Both of our bunk rooms shared a single small area with a lav, refresher and some basic food prep equipment. Considering we were working together as well; we saw a lot of each other.

At first, I was pretty burned. The two most important people in my life had just died. Still, I noticed that every time Dr. Marcus looked at me, he would grimace like he was seeing something distasteful.

Over time, we also ran into each other in the gym. Grissom had only one gym, and we both exercised twice a day. I was continuing my self-defense training and boxing. Each morning, Dr. Marcus would do a strenuous Tai Chi routine and each evening he would do a very intense yoga workout. One could tell how intense, from his well-chiseled physique. Some days, he would wear very brief shorts. Some, he would wear very tight exercise pants. Some days, he wore a very brief shirt. Some days, no shirt. I enjoyed the view, a great deal. I always wore a very boring, shapeless, standard Star Fleet exercise suit.

Dr. David and I were able to work normally together. He was very professional. But not a single personal word was exchanged. I thought about saying something. I wanted to say something. I kept my peace because I was a junior officer assigned there to support him. He was the indispensable man. If he complained, I might be removed from the assignment, my first real assignment in Star Fleet. Being removed would inevitably be a black mark on my record. I had relied on Becky to help me untangle these kinds of complicated social knots and now Becky was gone.

We went on like that for the best part of the first three months, actually, eighty-seven days, nineteen hours and twelve minutes.

Finally, one evening, I came back a little later from boxing than he had and saw him brewing tea in our common area.

He looked over his shoulder and gave me his typical look of disgust.

I finally couldn't take it anymore and burst out, "What have I done to you, other than save your life, that was so bad that I deserve to be so loathed?"

That got him to turn around and give me a different sort of look. I would guess confusion.

"Why do you think I loathe you?" He asked.

"Every time you look at me, your face twists into a rictus of loathing and disgust." I answered a bit annoyed.

Dr. David took the pot of tea he had been making and two mugs to the very small table in our common area. Then he gestured to the other chair and said, "Please join me for a cup of tea?"

I sat.

He poured us two cups. He liked a bit of sugar in his. Vulcan food tends to be much more bitter than human, so I liked mine plain.

"I don't loath you." He announced, which should not have resulted in me feeling so relieved.

Then he continued, "It's just that, every time I see you, I think of Madison."

"Madison?" I asked.

Dr. David continued to explain, "When you saved my life in the Genesis cave, the researcher who was killed instead was my best friend Madison."

As I held my mug in both hands and sipped, he continued, "He was my best friend. We were both childhood prodigies. Some parts of being a prodigy may seem glamorous from the outside, but there are so few people who can understand what you're going through. Madison was also a prodigy. We grew up together. Got degrees together. Got caught getting drunk together. Madison was the one who got me into Tai Chi and Yoga.

"We were going to beam the gear down to the cave and then send everyone else. But Khan got there too fast. We just beamed ourselves and hoped Khan wouldn't realize what the active transporter controls meant.

"We could see from the cave what was happening back on Regula 1. We saw all the people we had worked with and cared about massacred. Tortured to death for the secret of Genesis. They all held the secret for us and didn't say where we had taken the Genesis Device. They gave their lives and suffering for us. We saw Star Fleet crew mixed in with Khan's people. We thought you were party to what was going on.

"Then we were there in the Genesis Cave. Captain Terrel had that phaser drawn on us. Considering what I had just seen, I was still so angry. I tried to take it out on Kirk, but he nearly punched my lights out. Then I saw Terrel with the phaser. I recognized him as one of the ones with Khan. Thinking with my anger, my balls, I just leapt at him which should have been my death. You saved my life, but Madison died in my place. Twenty years of shared experience vaporized in a split second. I'm the one who should have died there, not Madison. Combined with the knowledge that if I had just stood still and let the professionals handle it, Terrel would have still collapsed, committed suicide and Madison would still be alive.

"So, I'm not angry at you. I guess I'm just angry at myself. I can't see you without seeing Madison." Dr. David concluded.

I took a few moments to digest what David had just said, taking another sip of tea. Then I decided to say, "We're taught about situations like that at the Academy. You need to understand; you made a mistake. You have to learn from your mistake. If you do, you will be honoring Madison's sacrifice. You can never have perfect knowledge of what is to come. It is also possible that the horror and revulsion Captain Terrel felt at having taken Madison's life were part of what gave him the strength in that final moment to resist. You have to trust your judgement and take actions. Sometimes there is no right decision."

"So, you take no responsibility for your actions?" He asked skeptically.

"No, you accept that there is no possible way for you to know all the possible outcomes. It seems like you met your own personal Kobayashi Maru." I replied.

"Kobayashi Maru?" He replied confused.

I laughed and explained the Kobayashi Maru test at the Academy.

I think, somehow, just by talking about it, in some way the intensity of his feelings had been reduced. He no longer felt as bad. I decided to give it a try.

"On Enterprise we also had many casualties. Captain Spock was my only parent. My best friend was a Cadet, like me, on her final training cruise named Becky. They were both killed." I explained.

Dr. David leaned across the table, took me in his arms and we cried together. Just as with Admiral Kirk, I found it very comforting. I wondered if the ability to comfort in this way was a genetically passed trait?

After Khan, I had gotten to spend some time with Admiral Kirk, including in social situations. That is where I had seen Admiral Kirk work his charm. Admiral Kirk was an older man, but still quite virile. He also had that matter/anti-matter reaction hot charm he could turn on and off at will. The power of this combination was demonstrated by his continued routine success removing the lower garments of much younger women.

He never turned this combination on me, though there were times I wished he would. He was still my idol. However, Admiral Kirk clearly thought of me as a friend's child and therefore practically a relation. He was also my, much, superior officer and mentor which were additional good reasons to restrain ourselves. I would also point out that ignoring me, in that way, didn't cost him any nights alone.

Dr. David on the other hand, was not in the chain of command. He was this young, age appropriate, available version of Kirk. The son of my idol. In his own way, more beautiful to me than his Father. His body, long and lithe like an ahn-woon pulled so tight!

We ended up in his bunk that night. It was my first time with a man like that. I don't think Dr. David was very experienced either. I had been curious. I had done some research. I knew it was supposed to be very pleasurable. It was much better than anything I had imagined.

From that point forward, we rarely needed to make two bunks in the morning, unless we had used them both together. I thought we might get bored. I certainly never did. If anything, Dr. David seemed even more eager than me.

Almost as pleasurable was the time we would spend each evening where we would eat together, then drink tea or coffee, and talk.

During the time I was on Grissom I was experimenting with a million different things including giving up Vulcan vegetarianism. At the same time, restraining me a bit, which was probably good, was the fact that David was the rare human vegetarian. We made a funny couple, the meat-eating Vulcan and the vegetarian human.

Then David was stabbed. I saved his life again, while absorbing a vast new load of guilt, and sent him on his way to Walter Reed. I was sent to Dreadnought.

We had exchanged messages since, but always initiated by me. He seemed reluctant. I didn't want to seem a bother. Did we love each other? Had it just been a torrid affair? Was he upset I had not fought the Klingon? Was anything left? I still felt something but had no idea if it was reciprocated in any way.

*** And now a word from our sponsor! ***

If you enjoy Star Wars and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three Star Wars novels I have written, all called Legend of the Harp also available on this site!

If you enjoy modern urban fantasy and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three novels I have written based on the Dresden Files universe of Jim Butcher, called Warlock of Omaha, Warlock of Omaha Squared and Warlock of Omaha Cubed!

This writer, like the storyteller in the market of old, now has a hat out hoping for a small gratuity. There is no obligation and I'm grateful you took a moment to read. However, if my writing has found favor in your eyes, please take a moment to go to:

Pay

Pal

.me

/hemaccabe

and throw in a little something, a dime, a quarter, a dollar, etc.

While I love to write, I do have a spouse and a child and a job and many other claims on my time that don't understand why I would spend so many hours banging on a keyboard. A small tangible return would help smooth the way to allow me to provide many more stories.

Please help. Thank-you.


	17. Chapter 17

**Star Trek Lost Destiny**

**By Hemaccabe**

**Book I: Race of Death**

**Chapter 17: Warp Speed**

**ALL RIGHTS RESERVED**

It took us just over two hours to get the new crew situated properly and cargo loaded.

Dr. Marcus joined us on the Bridge thirty-two minutes and forty-nine seconds later. He took the Science station above and behind me on the starboard side.

Rachel announced, "All loading operations have been completed."

I replied, "Mr. Chekov, please lay in a course for Deimos Arsenal. Mr. Winter, take us there at three quarter impulse."

We proceeded smoothly out of Earth orbit and an hour later saw us above Mars. One of Star Fleet's main Sol system arsenals was dug deep into Mars' moon Deimos. We needed to offload the thirty dummy photon torpedoes which had been holding space in our magazines. It was useful to have something in the magazines for tests, but we hardly needed full power torpedoes when engineers were wandering around with plasma torches.

"Helm reports we are in position." James announced.

"Begin loading operations." I ordered.

We transported our two best loaders out to the tubes in the superstructure. There wasn't a transporter in the box with the tubes, but there was a designated target space large enough for two crew or two torpedoes. There was also a small accessway from the impulse engines up to the photon torpedo launchers, but it was much easier to get there by being transported. The two loaders started unloading the dummy torpedoes by transporter down to the arsenal. When that was completed, we started loading in low power torpedoes.

(Author's Note: I know intraship beaming is supposed to be very difficult and dangerous. However, we are 25 story years past the point when that observation was made. Considering the Oberth class has no apparent physical connection between her tiny primary hull and larger secondary hull, it seems intraship beaming capabilities must have improved.

I suspect a big part of the problem of intraship beaming is being at warp speed, as they were in the ST: OS episode, "Day of the Dove," where it's discussed. I imagine that being at warp, it would be necessary to correct for the warp speed's constantly changing the location of the transporter target and warping of space, which would also explain why split-second timing would be required. However, Tico is now in orbit of Diemos. Hitting a spot in the ship should be, at least in theory, as easy as hitting a spot on the surface of a planet below which seems routine.)

"Mr. Crater, please go personally supervise loading of small arms."

"Aye, aye Captain." Rachel said. Then she got up to go, presumably, to the cargo transporter.

"Dr. Marcus, please take Comms. Maintain scan against any interference."

"Ye..I mean, Aye Aye Captain." Dr. Marcus replied as he got up from the Science station and walked across to, and then took, the Comms station.

The likelihood that there would be any interference with our loading operation here in Sol-space was practically zero. Still, it was good to be on our guard. Getting blasted by an easily detected Klingon warbird while in orbit around Mars would be a very inauspicious beginning.

It would take just over three hours to complete torpedo loading operations. We were also taking on a load out of small arms. There had been no need for small arms while under construction. Now we were going to space. Ticonderoga would have three main arsenals aboard for small arms, the Security office on C deck, the Transporter room on D deck and Engineering. There would also be numerous other locations around the ship where small caches of weapons would be kept. This arrangement was considered the best possible security precaution against an enemy boarding action to take the ship which might be proceeded by an enemy effort to make movement about the ship difficult. Yes, that meant jokes about finding a weapon's locker in the galley, but better jokes than lost ships. I wanted a senior officer to keep an eye on this process to make sure no weapons were "misplaced" during the process. That meant Rachel.

With weapon's loading completed, I announced "Mr. Chekov, make course for Arrokoth. Mr. Winter, please take us there at full impulse."

I figured it was time to stretch the impulse engines. They had now had some working in. I didn't want to go to warp yet. The trip to Arrokoth would take about twelve hours. I wanted to give my crew some time to get settled into their quarters, get something to eat and get some rest. I had a big day planned tomorrow.

I got some rest as well during the transit because I wanted to be present at Arrokoth.

We arrived and found the small flat rock tumbling through space. Arrokoth was like thousands of other similar rocks floating through the vast expanse of this and many other solar system's Kuiper Belts. However, as the first such rock that human science had been able to manage to send a robotic probe to, it was now a protected reserve and Federation heritage sight, like many of the small, very slow, robotic probes humans had long since sent into space.

Rachel announced, "Receiving buoy transmission."

There was a small buoy attached to the rock, permanently transmitting out that this was a protected location and a variety of other information.

"I want full scans of this rock and the surrounding area. Please send documentation as per buoy instructions." I ordered.

The buoy had instructions for how anyone who happened by this rock could make scans and then contribute the information for the greater advancement of science. It was a lovely opportunity to let our ship's science and scan team practice.

There had been a time, such as when that first robotic probe came to Arrokoth, when data was scarce and thousands, if not millions of scientists would pour over each one and zero in the data at endless length. Now things had flipped considerably.

Population-wise there had been over ten billion humans when they had fought that last great World War. The war and subsequent lack of food, shelter and medical care had reduced that population substantially. As with most major human wars, diseases caused by lacking proper waste treatment killed many times more people than the actual combat. When Humanity had come back, they had achieved it so quickly, they went quickly into a state of very low population growth. Now, over a century later, humans were just starting to exceed that ten billion number again and that included many off-world colonies. There were many more scientists studying space phenomena now as they represented a much larger percentage of the population than they had before the Last World War. However, the rate of production of space scientists was growing slowly in a linear fashion while the available data on space phenomena to study was growing rapidly in an exponential fashion.

So, Arrokoth didn't have a dedicated observatory. However, people did come visit. Like us. Also, private owners of space craft might come as a tourist lark. There were those who were fascinated with space exploration history. As well as any others who might find themselves here.

The buoy had instructions how any such ship could take scans of Arrokoth and send them in. Different scanners, at different times, might discover something new and interesting about the rock. Maybe not. Still, even knowing it was very unchanging, expanded the horizons of science.

We spent three hours stretching the legs of our brand new AN/SPY-1 scanners. Letting Dr. Marcus lead the investigation. Dr. Marcus did well. He coordinated with Astrogation and Comms. There wasn't much for our labs to do and we were certainly forbidden from taking samples.

When we were done, I made a log entry and Comms sent a report to the buoy's suggested point of reception, the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum Data Repository. Ticonderoga had done one tiny service for the Federation to start paying back the enormous costs of her construction and deployment.

I had already plotted the next course during my break, so I was prepared to give it as an order. I wouldn't always be looking over the shoulder of my Navigator like this, but this was all new and I had a certain plan I wanted to execute while not having any clumsy missteps as a new Captain. This order had been the real reason we had come to Arrokoth. We certainly hadn't come because I had always wanted to come here, and this had been the ultimate destination of the course I had spent three weeks preparing for our Cadet cruise. We came because I wanted to make sure I was picking a first warp cruise that would be a single long, straight trip, with no obstacles.

With all our senior bridge staff present I gave the order, "Mr. Chekov, prepare a course for us to Eris Star Fleet Weapon's Test Range.

"Mr. Winter, when you have that course, take us there at warp factor one."

I piped down to Engineering using my armrest button, "Engineering prepare for warp speed."

Engineering, with the voice of Mr. Peter Preston replied, "Is the word given?"

It took Jascha only a minute to lay in the course and report, "Course ready Captain."

I piped down, "The word is given."

Engineering replied, "Aye Aye, Captain. Ship is ready for warp."

"Mr. Crater, whole ship please." I requested.

"On whole ship Sir." She replied quickly.

"Prepare for warp speed." I warned. A warning should be unnecessary, but this would be our first time at warp in a new ship. Anything could happen. A wise choice might be to find a good chair with buckles.

"Whole ship off." I completed.

"Secured from whole ship." Rachel replied efficiently.

James announced, "Ready to proceed at warp one."

"Proceed." I ordered.

The ship gracefully transitioned to warp space. If anything, she became quieter. Probably from the whole crew holding their breaths.

I noticed I was holding my breath a moment later, bracing for something to go wrong, but nothing did. I breathed.

We were proceeding from one remote Kuiper belt object to another. Currently, to place arbitrary values on it as if Sol system was a great clock face, Arrokoth was at five o'clock and Eris was at one o'clock. That meant we had a substantial distance to go and Eris was orbiting away from us. We could have tried to orbit the other way, but that would have required greater overall distance and a course correction at some point. It would also require more inelegant delta v to insert into the Eris system.

We were proceeding to test the warp drives for the first time here in Sol system. If something went wrong, we were close to help. It would be better to discover a problem at warp one rather than, say, seven. Also, I wanted to keep letting my crew work in, find their shifts, get rested and fed.

After letting warp do well for an hour. I took that moment to get some more rest and something to eat as well.

I was back in my chair as we arrived at Eris.

Eris and her accompanying satellites had been set aside as a firing range for Star Fleet.

(Author's Note: Currently, Eris is known to have only a single satellite. I'm betting that when we get a better look at her, we'll find she's accumulated some other Kuiper Belt detritus as satellites as well. If I'm eventually proven wrong, I would imagine Star Fleet could have towed some extra rocks in as targets. Or blown some chunks off.)

I then began to drill the ship.

*** And now a word from our sponsor! ***

If you enjoy Star Wars and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three Star Wars novels I have written, all called Legend of the Harp also available on this site!

If you enjoy modern urban fantasy and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three novels I have written based on the Dresden Files universe of Jim Butcher, called Warlock of Omaha, Warlock of Omaha Squared and Warlock of Omaha Cubed!

This writer, like the storyteller in the market of old, now has a hat out hoping for a small gratuity. There is no obligation and I'm grateful you took a moment to read. However, if my writing has found favor in your eyes, please take a moment to go to:

Pay

Pal

.me

/hemaccabe

and throw in a little something, a dime, a quarter, a dollar, etc.

While I love to write, I do have a spouse and a child and a job and many other claims on my time that don't understand why I would spend so many hours banging on a keyboard. A small tangible return would help smooth the way to allow me to provide many more stories.

Please help. Thank-you.


	18. Chapter 18

**Star Trek Lost Destiny**

**By Hemaccabe**

**Book I: Race of Death**

**Chapter 18: It's Training It's Pouring**

**ALL RIGHTS RESERVED**

(Author's Note: One of the issues of the day is the imminent likelihood of the emergence of a truly self-aware, thinking AI. Generally, this is met with fear. When Captain Kirk faced the possibility of an intelligent computer, he was very worried that he might lose his cool job being Captain of a Starship. The emergence of the crude M-5 in the OS episode, "The Ultimate Computer," might have dissuaded someone from introducing a sentient computer in a prequel, unless they had complete disrespect for what had come before. Apparently not. Many are also worried about a Skynet deciding to kill all people as if we're nuisances.

I'm hopeful. I really want my Rosie robot. Look up the Jetsons if you don't know that reference. I also feel like a big part of having AI should be accompanied by humans climbing to higher levels. We're minutes away from being able to produce genetically perfected, then improved versions of ourselves, ala Gattaca. I would also imagine there would be options in improving our cognition through some sort of direct neural interface. I already depend on my phone to be my functioning memory. I'd love to not have to pull it out and just know and, more importantly, be able to record a vast amount of information. We would then be meeting this new AI on much more even terms, perhaps welcoming it as a child?

Of course, none of this is addressed in Star Trek which leaves me with quandaries as to how much I should add?

Something added later: I had a friend whose opinion I respect point out in defense of the STD that with Siri and Cortana, the way M-5 interacted is kind of silly. Further M-5 reflects ideas that make sense about computers in 1968, but not so much in 2019. My friend does have a point. Still, the computer we meet in the STD is clearly vastly more advanced than M-5 which is a terrible violation of continuity.)

There was so much we had to learn!

We had come to Eris to drill and practice being a Starship crew.

Up till now, we had only been executing basic maneuvers. There is a world of difference between basic maneuvers and performing like a well-trained team.

We started by trying to execute basic turns. It took time, as pass after pass was slow, slipped or found some new way to fail.

Executing turns required split second timing from Jascha and me but fell hardest on James. I could tell he felt embarrassed and frustrated.

I had prepared a set of drills to execute. There were standard drills in the Basic Captain's Handbook. I had come up with some. I had learned some from Captain Bacon. I had gotten some really devilish ones from Admiral Kirk, which would be saved for last.

When Helm needed a break, we worked on scanning.

Every twenty to thirty years there's a swing in how computers are viewed in Star Fleet. At some points, they're viewed as being so advanced, they must remain under the purview of the Science officer. Then perception shifts to see the computers as more of a communication device and, thus, under the purview of the Chief Communications Officer. It has swung back and forth like that since the beginning of Star Fleet.

So, while then Commander Spock would have had responsibility for the ship's computer during the Enterprise's famous Five-Year Mission, now the computer fell under Communications, which meant Rachel Crater on my ship.

The assignment of scanners was also a touchy subject. Scanners had a military and technical purpose, which Rachel, as Chief Communications Officer, would be best suited to handle. Scanners also had a scientific discovery purpose, which David, as Chief Science Officer, would be best suited to handle. Sometimes, at the same time. They could both review the active scan, but only one could drive. This meant they needed to be able to hand off back and forth with great agility. Agility in cooperation doesn't come from musical montages, it comes from hard work, practice and frequently feeling like you slammed your face into the bulkhead. This was the time for face slams, not when a Klingon Battlecruiser was bearing down on us, perhaps while using some natural phenomena as cover.

Scanning was more complicated, because they both had to back up, help, and stay out of each other's way. Eventually, I hoped the two would develop a well-choreographed dance of back and forth. If that was to ever be, it would start here at Eris with the two proverbially bumping heads and trying to drag scanner control back and forth.

We also needed to be able to slot in other personnel. Every seat on the Bridge except mine had a standard swap for shifts meaning, with staggered shifts, we would all serve together only very occasionally. Should there be a red alert, senior officers would report to the Bridge, but that would be rare. Also, those officers, if they were very quick, might come in minutes. The crises could be resolved for better, or possibly very worse, in seconds. There was also the very real possibility one or more of the senior Bridge crew might not be available as they were off ship, incapacitated or away on leave.

That meant we needed to spend time swapping in the others who would man Helm, Comms, Science and Navigation.

We also needed to give Rachel, James and Peter opportunities to practice from the big chair.

Then there was AEGIS.

AEGIS was a whole new way of doing business.

AEGIS was not as smart or capable as M-5 had promised to be. Still, it had the potential to execute maneuvers, fire weapons, operate scanners and navigate in ways humans simply could not. I could ask AEGIS, particularly in a combat situation, to just take over. In some sort of pure combat situation, it could probably fight the ship better than we could. However, it could not keep track of secondary considerations, like it would be better to save the ship, than destroy three more enemy vessels. Or something that was in the area of enemy vessels was actually a civilian ship, not to be fired upon.

That meant it was good to keep AEGIS under the direct supervision of the crew. However, AEGIS could provide assistance with all these tasks and more. For example, if I was creating a landing party, AEGIS could give me a report of suggestions, noting small details I might have overlooked. Still, I would make the judgement and be able to overrule AEGIS.

If we were trying to execute a maneuver, AEGIS could give suggestions to the Helmsman which he could select or decline. In navigation, AEGIS could provide suggested courses. During scanning, AEGIS could pick out tiny anomalies a human observer might miss.

AEGIS was an incredibly powerful tool. However, like all powerful tools it was commensurately immensely complex to operate. We needed to begin building those skills.

The days were long. The crew became tired. We had failure after failure. There was pain and frustration. Slowly, with hard work and practice, we got better.

At the same time, other parts of our ship were executing their own drills. I knew Security Chief Yochai T'avor was running his team of security personnel through drill after drill. With failures paid for in push-ups, sit-ups and chin ups. Mr. Preston was running his gang in Engineering hard, practicing for possible failure after possible failure. I watched at one point to see a tired crewman question him, "How likely is something like this to really happen?"

Peter looked at him with wide angry eyes, pointed to his scarred face and said, "This likely! Now MOVE!"

That crewman moved.

I accepted seeing other people sitting in my seat as I must.

As we started to gain some basic competence, we went on to target practice.

At first, our aim was poor. We executed run after run. Eventually, with blood, sweat and tears of frustration, we were hitting the target reliably every time. Eventually, we had expended all thirty torpedoes. Yes, we had blasted Eris and her satellites, but phasers and photon torpedoes were all set at very low yield, so they had very limited effects. Eris and her system would be waiting for the next Starship that needed to tune up her game.

During this time, I took a moment to reset the prefix code.

I also made a point to meet with every member of the crew. The typical greeting ran something like, "Welcome aboard. I am very glad to have you as part of my crew. This is a brand-new ship, so we will be depending on you more than normal to keep an eye out for any unexpected problems and to help develop new policies and procedures. If there is anything I can do to make your time on this ship better, please do not hesitate to come speak with me."

Most just said, "Thank-you," and returned to duty. Some actually told me about places where they wanted to take liberty, dietary concerns or other personal matters. I made notes. I showed them how to program the synthesizer. I listened.

I noticed that the officer class on this ship, normally the backbone of a Star Fleet vessel, was small, relatively young and inexperienced. Aboard ship there was obviously no one of Captain's rank. We only had one Commander, myself, and I was the youngest Commander in Star Fleet. Only two Lieutenant Commanders graced our vessel, Rachel and Kiki. We also had only a single full Lieutenant, James. All the other officers were Junior Grades and Ensigns.

We did have an unusually experienced enlisted crew. There seemed to be a surprising concentration of senior enlisted, particularly Master Chiefs, especially considering the size of the crew. Peter's number two in Engineering was someone unusual in his crew of young reprobates, Master Chief Greenfeld. Greenfeld had been Captain Scott's right-hand man since the Five-Year Mission.

Master Chief T'avor, our Chief of Security, was not unusual, in this case, for being a Master Chief. Security, while part of Engineering and Support, was a fairly major section on a Starship. If we weren't even getting an Ensign for the job, which was reasonable considering the small size of the vessel and crew, getting a Master Chief made sense. Reviewing his record, I saw that T'avor had served on Andorian vessels up to this point. He had never been Chief of Security before. He had been a SPAD (pronounced "Spade") for the first ten years of his career, a highly demanding form of Star Fleet Special Forces.

When I met with Master Chief Yochai T'avor I added, "We are serving on a predominantly human ship so we will undoubtedly have to accommodate ourselves to some things we will find uncomfortable. However, should you feel you are being made to compromise yourself in ways you cannot accept or facing cultural difficulties you cannot overcome, please inform me. I assure you; I will take your concerns very seriously."

I said something similar to the third, and only other, non-human aboard, the Tellarite enlisted in Engineering, Puerka Shutto. I did determine from her personnel file, she was female.

Then I asked, "What brings you to serve on a human ship?"

T'avor looked at me frankly and said, "There are few Andorian ships in Star Fleet. It is a great honor on an Andorian ship to be Chief of Security. Normally, they are the First Officer. To be Chief of Security on such a ship, one must be an officer. At my age, it is too late for me to be commissioned as an officer through anything but a battlefield commission and that seems unlikely. I have always desired to be a Chief of Security. I don't know how many tours I have left. If I wanted to be Chief, I had to accept a non-Andorian ship. I had served with Admiral Kirk when I was a SPAD, during the conflict with the Kzinti. I held him in high regard. So, when he asked me to be Security Chief on this vessel, I accepted."

Shutto's answer was simpler, "I attended the Star Fleet Enlisted Engineering Program on Earth. It was hard for me, as a Tellarite, to fit in. Mr. Preston accepted me into his circle of friends. He is my best friend. When he wanted to build this ship, Mr. Preston assembled us all from the Academy to build the ship together."

Eventually, we were executing maneuvers swiftly and accurately. Science and Comms handed the scanners back and forth smoothly. We could hit snap targets. We could choose when to, and when not to, select AEGIS suggestions that would show up on our consoles.

I tried out the final Kirk scenario.

We were orbiting Eris at Warp 5 to engage a "Klingon Battlecruiser." Actually, a bit of space rock. The crew had finally started to get these moves down and were feeling pretty salty. When we got to the firing position, we found the Klingon Battlecruiser there, ready to fire. Except behind the Battlecruiser was a … GIANT SPACE AMOEBA!

We had to change course, hail the Klingon, and try to figure out our move.

We didn't save the Klingon. We did survive. We did find a way to destroy the amoeba before it wiped out Sheboygan-3!

In general, the scenario built caution and confidence in equal measure. Thank-you Admiral Kirk!

*** And now a word from our sponsor! ***

If you enjoy Star Wars and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three Star Wars novels I have written, all called Legend of the Harp also available on this site!

If you enjoy modern urban fantasy and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three novels I have written based on the Dresden Files universe of Jim Butcher, called Warlock of Omaha, Warlock of Omaha Squared and Warlock of Omaha Cubed!

This writer, like the storyteller in the market of old, now has a hat out hoping for a small gratuity. There is no obligation and I'm grateful you took a moment to read. However, if my writing has found favor in your eyes, please take a moment to go to:

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.me

/hemaccabe

and throw in a little something, a dime, a quarter, a dollar, etc.

While I love to write, I do have a spouse and a child and a job and many other claims on my time that don't understand why I would spend so many hours banging on a keyboard. A small tangible return would help smooth the way to allow me to provide many more stories.

Please help. Thank-you.


	19. Chapter 19

**Star Trek Lost Destiny**

**By Hemaccabe**

**Book I: Race of Death**

**Chapter 19: Star Base 3**

**ALL RIGHTS RESERVED**

(Author's Note: Ranks. Officers are ranked from O-1 Ensign, O-2 Lieutenant Junior Grade, O-3 Lieutenant, O-4 Lieutenant Commander, O-5 Commander, O-6 Captain, O-7 Commodore, O-8 Admiral, O-9 Fleet Admiral. A Fleet Captain is still an O-6, but of a senior level. A ship will often have many dramas going on. There is a world of experience below decks with the enlisted crew and many departments. Star Trek has always been a show that focused on the Officers and, particularly, the Bridge officers. I will as well.

There are enlisted crew aboard Ticonderoga, and, in fact, they make up the majority of the crew. However, I won't focus heavily on their ranks. In most Star Trek, they're barely visible. Generally, they will fall into three broad categories, Crewman, Chief or Master Chief. Master Chief is the highest rank of enlisted and someone who holds that rank is likely to have been in the service for a very long time and be very competent at their job.

While Star Fleet, like the Russian Navy, depends on her junior officers. The US Navy, and most western navies, depend on their senior enlisted. If you meet someone who is a senior enlisted person in real life, particularly a Master Chief, make sure you give them the great respect they deserve.)

At that point, I felt we had come as far as training would carry us. We still had room to improve, but the goals I had, to see this crew be able to function smoothly as a team, had been met.

We then dove back down into Sol system. This time, at warp two, the trip went much more swiftly.

We first went by Deimos and reloaded our photon torpedoes. This time with full power versions.

Then we swung by Earth. I had been keeping up morale by using a large amount of real food. We were still harvesting fish, shrimp, snails, fruits, vegetables and our herb garden, but we were also using the precious stores of real food we had picked up on our first pass far more swiftly than we might normally when on patrol.

This was acceptable since we knew we would be returning for resupply soon. Star Fleet has no objection to feeding her crews as well as possible.

We refilled our larders, mostly refilling our fresh food. I also made sure we brought up enough extra food to serve everyone on board a prime rib dinner. I had discovered our ship's cook, another Master Chief, Chief Cook Eli Kinnebrew was an excellent cook. As Chief Cook, he would work with the Life Support department to help harvest food and they would work with him, when necessary, for cooking.

When I reviewed Master Chief Kinnebrew's record, I saw he had served with Admiral Kirk for many years.

I sent a comm up to Admiral Kirk to ask his opinion.

Admiral Kirk replied, "You should consider Kinnebrew a truly valuable gift. My stomach has missed him since he's been re-assigned. He's also someone who will know the tenor of the crew, and if they're any problems, before anyone else. You can trust his judgement and will be well served by taking his advice."

We had a wonderful dinner of prime rib and synthohol Pinot Noir. I knew Chief Kinnebrew had mixed items grown on board with food brought up. The shrimp scampi was definitely tank shrimp and the butter was definitely synthesizer, but it had been cooked in a real pan on a real stove with real seasonings. I also knew that non-prime rib options had been prepared for the handful of crew who didn't want it.

The synthohol Pinot Noir was no a match for the real thing, but I was not going to countenance real alcohol on the Captain's table in our first shipwide meal and it was surprisingly good.

I looked around my table and saw so many people I already cared about. Rachel Crater, Jascha Chekov, Peter Preston, James Winter and David Marcus. I also now had Chief T'avor and Peter had brought Puerka. All around the ship, as we had no single area large enough for everyone to gather, at this moment, seventy-eight souls who had been committed to my care were eating a feast to celebrate completion of training.

During the meal I got up, addressed shipwide, held up a wineglass and said, "I wish I had something better to toast all of you on our success at training. You have all done extremely well."

Everyone returned my toast and there was general cheering.

The next bit of ceremony was for me to announce, "Mr. Crater, you may inform Star Fleet Command that this ship is available for service."

"Aye, Aye Sir!" Rachel responded and pressed a symbolic big red button on a console.

We had actually done the report earlier, but I think everyone liked the theater.

I looked around the table and realized this was an important moment. We were all together and happy. Who knew when such a moment might come again? If it would ever come again?

Also, I wondered a bit about my goals. What drove my desire for the command of an Excelsior? Was it that I hoped, like my Father had, to find a place I truly belonged? Did I feel that a family could only be created on the most prestigious ship in the fleet? Was it family that made the ship desirable or prestige? I looked around the table and wondered, could we become a family? Would we?

We sent everyone to bed early keeping only a skeleton staff on duty. I stayed on duty sitting in my chair on the Bridge. I couldn't sleep.

Our orders were to take a small cargo out to Starbase 3, notable as the duty station of Starfleet CinC RSE DNZ. Translated from military speak, the Commander in Chief of the Starfleet forces facing the Romulan Star Empire Defined Neutral Zone.

Back in the days of the Five-Year Mission, there may have been only one ship present on the whole neutral zone. Now, there would be more and coordinating them was more complicated. That was the CinC RSE DNZ's job.

I had now come to the end of what could be predicted. From the moment I had been assigned these orders and this promotion, these steps had been prescribed. There had been wonderful surprises and happy moments, but they could all have been predicted.

With the morning, we would be heading out into the unknown. We were daring to look into the face of the void and the void would look back. Were we ready? Could anyone ever be ready?

David sauntered up on the Bridge. I had been enjoying a serene quiet moment alone.

He went to his station, his loose gait told me that either the synthohol had an unusually profound effect on him or he had found something more potent. Which was mildly annoying, since I had sacrificed real Pinot Noir at our big dinner to make a point about alcohol onboard. Alcohol was often winked at, but still against regulations. That fed into the other general annoyance of him that after almost two years aboard Grissom, having saved his life twice and given unstintingly of myself to him, it had been too much of a bother for him to exchange notes or pick up a comm?

David made a point of reviewing the scan. Then announced, "Just thought I'd take a look. Looks like the sky is clear tonight. Good weather to set off on the morrow."

Even though it was just silly talk, it was actually nice to hear.

Then, just like we had never been apart, he knew exactly what I was thinking.

"Saavik, you have a good ship, a good crew and we're all here to support you and make it work. Well, maybe not the space amoeba." The last he said smiling.

I couldn't help myself, I smiled.

Then he continued, "Whatever's out there, we'll face it together. You don't have to be perfect."

I smiled hopefully at him. He patted my back reassuringly.

Of course, I had been worrying if this mission was a sign that Star Fleet would not be able to look past the Monitor Subclass Oberth and give us missions that would really mean something.

But David, bless his soul, had just made me think about consequences. If I was not perfect, people would die. Crewman on this ship, all of whom I already loved, would die. Getting boring missions did not seem so bad anymore.

The next day rose slowly. The crew, having been up late, sauntered to stations looking tired and ill kempt.

I had the Federation Anthem played at high volume in all public spaces.

That roused them.

We beamed up two packages, together they filled the available open space in the cargo transport area. We beamed up a last package. It filled our cargo transporter. I pulled out my trusty pistol gripped tricorder I and scanned it. Mostly it looked like various pieces of personal correspondence and care packages for people serving out near the Romulan Neutral Zone. A person couldn't squeeze into our cargo transporter space now.

We departed from Sol system at warp five, which I deemed to be a sober, responsible cruise speed.

The first night, we rousted out all the crew who had never left the solar system. We wore crazy costumes and made them swab the decks with silly soapy water in their bedwear.

After a few days I met with Peter to see how the engines were doing. I brought Rachel for moral support.

I opened our meeting with, "Are we pushing them too hard? Do we need to slow down?"

Continuous warp five would be way too fast for a typical Oberth.

Peter grinned, "No, we are not pushing them too fast. With the training time and these last few days, we've been able to analyze the engines. We know they could hold a warp six cruise easily, possibly even a warp seven. I believe a warp eight cruise is possible. Sprints could be as fast as warp 10. We'll know more if we're willing to do some speed trials."

"I think we should give that some more study time. Mr. Crater, please review Mr. Preston's findings and give me a report."

I think Peter wanted to work something else in, perhaps about putting the ship on the galactic Grand Prix? But he was cut off by Rachel's "Aye, Aye Captain."

We made our three-month journey out to Star Base 3. We stopped briefly at Topol Base to take on deuterium and anti-deuterium fuel. One would want to be able to refuel ships responding to the Romulan border swiftly, but one would not want the fuel depot right there on the border line providing the cloaking device equipped Romulans with too tempting a target.

Rachel's report did confirm Peter's findings. I still kept us at warp 5.

We made our way out to Star Base 3.

As we entered the system best known, other than Star Base 3, for Rae's Planet, we had our scan team up and running.

"We detect a Miranda class ship orbiting the Star in a circular orbit forty-two light minutes in radius. We detect Star Base 3 orbiting the star with a twenty-two light minute radius. There is an Oberth class vessel near the Star Base." Rachel began to report.

David cut in, "The star is spectral type G8-V. Rae's World is orbiting stably with a one hundred twenty-eight standard solar day orbital year. The planet's spectrum is normal."

"Do we have ID on those ships?" I asked.

Rachel continued, "IFF Transponder shows the ship out-orbiting the Star Base is the Miranda class, Vancouver. The ship in proximity is, oh my, Monitor."

"Report on Rae's world." I announced, more to keep things going.

David replied, "Rae's World is well known as one of the most perfect, and many would say, most beautiful M-type worlds known to the Federation that does not have a native sapient species. Rae's world has experienced some colonization, primarily agricultural."

I knew about Rae's World. I'd been studying this system for months. Rae's World was considered widely to be remarkably beautiful. The main settlement/capital was called "Audubon."

There was an interesting anecdote about the name of the planet. Legend had it that the planet had been named by an itinerant prospector/trader, whose name had been lost to history, for his one true love. Apparently, she wasn't impressed.

Unfortunately, because Rae's World was so close to the Romulan Neutral Zone and so remote from the core worlds of the Federation, many were reluctant to move out here. No substantial industry had developed. There was no lack, but nothing unusual to spring development. No pergium, dilithium, anti-deuterium, rodinium, or any of the thousands of exotic substances needed by the Federation's high-technology economy had yet been discovered, either on the planet or in the system. They might not be there, most systems had nothing. That was why those substances were so special when they were found. Without something to draw them in, no one wanted to make the large investment in a system that would likely be the first to be overrun in the next Romulan-Federation war. Still, the presence of the agricultural settlements meant that Star Base 3 had a ready supply of real food. Which it could share with a visiting ship like us.

I hit the button on my armrest the way I had seen Kirk do it in mission recordings to activate shipwide. I had not believed he had really done it that way until I saw him do it on Enterprise myself. I could have melted if I had not been so scared at the time. "We are right on the Romulan Neutral Zone. Ship will remain on alert status until further notice."

I then cut off shipwide and announced to the Bridge. "The Romulans have been suspected of sending in infiltrators using their vaunted cloaking systems. If there is an infiltrator, I would like the AN/SPY-1 system to pay back the Federation some of her huge development costs and find it. I would also like this ship to be the one that finds the infiltrator. I would remind everyone that there may very well be an additional bonus for early detection, survival."

That got everyone working. Scanning for military purposes was Rachel's job first, then David's. Still, if they weren't doing anything else, the Helmsman and the Navigator could examine the scan feed too. It would look really good on a commendation that they were the ones going above and beyond and found the Romulan. It would also look good for this ship. It might also keep us from dying when the Romulan vessel unleashed a plasma torpedo.

We cruised into proximity of the Star Base. Since the incident, bases and outposts had been built along the Romulan border to a much higher standard. During the incident, a single Romulan vessel had blasted outposts built down in nickel iron asteroids a mile deep, often with a single shot. (Author's Note: The incident Saavik assumes everyone knows about are the events depicted in the Star Trek: TOS episode, "Balance of Terror.")

Star Base 3 was buried at the center of a two hundred seventy-seven-mile-deep asteroid. Mostly nickel-iron. Her surface was covered with shields, scanners, phaser and photon torpedo turrets. I wouldn't want to be the Romulan Commander assigned to roll over it.

We beamed down the cargo with our compliments.

*** And now a word from our sponsor! ***

If you enjoy Star Wars and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three Star Wars novels I have written, all called Legend of the Harp also available on this site!

If you enjoy modern urban fantasy and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three novels I have written based on the Dresden Files universe of Jim Butcher, called Warlock of Omaha, Warlock of Omaha Squared and Warlock of Omaha Cubed!

This writer, like the storyteller in the market of old, now has a hat out hoping for a small gratuity. There is no obligation and I'm grateful you took a moment to read. However, if my writing has found favor in your eyes, please take a moment to go to:

Pay

Pal

.me

/hemaccabe

and throw in a little something, a dime, a quarter, a dollar, etc.

While I love to write, I do have a spouse and a child and a job and many other claims on my time that don't understand why I would spend so many hours banging on a keyboard. A small tangible return would help smooth the way to allow me to provide many more stories.

Please help. Thank-you.


	20. Chapter 20

**Star Trek Lost Destiny**

**By Hemaccabe**

**Book I: Race of Death**

**Chapter 20 Shore Leave**

**ALL RIGHTS RESERVED**

The Commodore in charge of the base hailed us, audio only.

The identity of the Commodore who was CinC RSE DNZ, was a closely guarded secret. I think Kirk had been CinC KLI DNZ on his way to his current post, Chief of Operations, but it had never been officially released or confirmed.

If the intelligence agents of enemy powers, as I had gotten to meet all too closely with Kruge, found out who the Commodore was in that post, they might try to put pressure on him or her by threatening their family or world. Nothing was beneath them under the best of circumstances, but particularly here, where the stakes were so high, there could be no bottom to the worst that could be expected.

So, I was not surprised when we didn't get an introduction or video transmission.

"Ahoy, Ticonderoga!" Came up the cheerful audio from the Commodore.

"Ahoy Star Base 3." I replied politely.

"You're next mission isn't ready yet. It's being collected at Audobon on Rae's World. You may wish to make your way over and take some shore leave?"

The last was formed as a question but spoken as a command.

"Aye Sir. Thank-you Sir." I replied.

"No, thank-you Ticonderoga for the delivery."

"Then we are on our way to shore leave." I replied.

I snapped on intraship, also known as Internal Communications, Shipwide.

"All crew prepare for Shore Leave on Rae's World. Your officers will be giving you instructions shortly. Dress is formal. I expect good behavior. We want to be welcome back here."

I snapped off intraship with my armrest.

"Navigation, plot a course to take us to a standard orbit over Audobon and Rae's World. Helm, implement. Full impulse. Mr. Crater, set up a schedule for shore leave."

With those orders, Ticonderoga wafted over to Rae's World and entered geosynchronous orbit over Audobon. Unfortunately, we were the only Federation vessel above the planet. It didn't take long after achieving orbit for the personnel transporter to become busy with crew eager to put terrestrial earth under their feet rather than K-alloy decks.

At this point, I had two versions of me on my shoulders. On one shoulder, was a version of me that was in spotless uniform and was the spitting image of the ideal officer we dreamed of being at the Academy.

On my other shoulder, was a version of me wearing a uniform with big dark splotches, not put on right. That version had low morale and a hard-cynical edge.

I looked at the mission we had just completed.

The sloppy version looked at the mission and said, "They're just going to treat you like another Oberth. Silly milk runs with small cargoes!"

The shining version replied, "If Starfleet wanted to re-position this ship for action to the border, it would make sense for us to also bring a cargo."

The sloppy version didn't give in. "Did you see the Monitor tied up to that Starbase? They think we're the same thing!"

The shining version, hung in there too, "Just because the Monitor is here, doesn't mean we're their replacement."

I retired to my quarters for a small bit of sleep. I coordinated with Rachel and decided I would watch the store the next day to let the maximum amount of crew take a bit of well-earned shore leave.

By the end of the next day, most of the crew had their chance to get down to the planet but CinC RSE DNZ let us know, "Still need at least another day."

We were bringing up real food stores to replace what we had eaten on the cruise out from Sol. Starfleet had a standard warehouse/wholesaler they dealt with on Rae's World. Chief Kinnebrew had planned for this and put together an order. I had barely glanced at the order before giving it my chop.

Food, thanks to Chief Kinnebrew, had worked out well. We had plenty of synthesizer food, so no one was in any danger of going hungry. Chief Kinnebrew would also be husbanding the resources we had in the freezer, based on the expected length of the voyage until new stores could be acquired, while augmenting with harvested supplies from our shrimp tank, fish, snails, vegetables, fruit and herb garden. The Chief was making three meals a week of "real" food.

Not everyone could attend every meal. It was also critical not to have waste. So, a system had been developed over the three months where every crew person from Captain to bilge cleaner got tickets each month. Then, Chief Kinnebrew would publish an expected menu for meals and, if you had a ticket, you could reserve a seat at a particular meal if there were still seats left. So far, it was working well. I handed out my tickets and a few extra that I got from Kinnebrew as morale boosters.

During those first three months I had gotten back on my exercise regime as had many of the other crew.

I still wasn't sure of David's intentions, but we had settled into working out together like we had never stopped.

I would start with Tai Chi in the morning with him, then move on to Self-Defense. In the evening, I'd do some boxing then finish with some yoga. I had found that David's Tai Chi was no simple warm up. We had sparred. I found his Tai Chi could handle my Star Fleet Standard Self Defense. It was only when I mixed in a little boxing, that I took back the advantage.

There was no instructor for boxing aboard. So, I took it upon myself to start teaching. I rounded up Jascha, Peter and Rachel into my little group along with a few others. Kiki wasn't into it. I gave them the same speech Admiral Kirk had given me and they were willing to humor me so far.

I knew I was capable.

I had practiced my self-defense hard. On Dreadnought, with just under seventy dedicated security personnel, I had found I was one of the best. Many Star Fleet personnel tend to like to work on self-defense hard. Security tends to push harder as they see self-defense as part of their specialty.

There were, perhaps, five really serious hands on Dreadnought. I think most would have thought of me as number six. I sparred all of five them at one point or another. I had held my own.

Dreadnought had three good boxing coaches though. I talked with Chief T'avor.

"I don't know your human boxing, but I think I have some respect in Andorian boxing. I would be happy to teach that?" He asked.

So, we had an Andorian boxing class on board which I was taking. In some ways, it was surprisingly like human boxing. Still, Andorian boxing also included some grappling and throws, it anticipated a much wilder free for all type of fighting which I thought could be useful.

I was sitting in my command chair on the Bridge, my clip tablet in my hand doing endless paperwork, when I heard a distinct, "Ahem."

My tall Vulcan ears had obviously let me down because there were Rachel and Kiki!

Rachel began, "We have decided to come kidnap you. It's not fair or reasonable for you to completely miss shore leave."

I gave them a rueful grin and waived my clip tablet, "I have way too much work to be taking shore leaves."

Unfazed, Rachel replied, "We will not take 'no' for an answer. If we have too, we'll have Dr. Kiki here declare shore leave a medical necessity which may make an incredibly minor note in your records."

I could sense it would be a major blow to the morale of my two most senior officers if I did not go at least for a bit.

I looked around the Bridge and saw the junior Helmsman, "Can't have that. Ensign Kyle, you have the Con. Maintain scans." Then I turned to Dr. Kiki and Rachel, "All right, I'm yours."

The girls each took me under one arm and walked me to the transporters.

With a quick fizz, we were on the planet.

The planet didn't have a target transporter, just a designated open space. We cleared the space by walking up a little rise and looking around.

We were clearly in the middle of a market that was in the center of what must have been Audubon, not least because there was a sign there reading, "Welcome to Audubon!"

The market was old-timey, with stalls and tents, like a fair. I knew the colony was pre-dominantly human.

The market was in the middle of a colony town. The buildings of the colony had clearly been built out of the standard white duracrete. The buildings were marked with numbers and symbols on them, typical of the work of by the Star Fleet Core of Engineers. Still the townspeople had made a bit of an effort to evoke the idea of an early twentieth century northern European or North American community. There was definitely a lot of white picket fence and there was some effort to make the whitewashed duracrete structures look more like buildings from that period. The effect was somehow pleasant and nicely balanced, as the town was not too presumptuous or phony, as it would have if they had pushed the illusion too hard, and not too barren and plain as if they had done nothing at all.

The town sat at a high point in the center of a valley with mountains on either side. The valley was filled with farms raising grain, vegetables, orchards and livestock. There was a pleasant stream running through the middle of the valley and one could see lovely falls at one end.

All of the "roads" were simple grass lanes which would work well for light foot traffic and hover vehicles.

The market was small, clearly there to serve the needs of the local people. I could imagine this market smashed in busy with seven hundred crew from an Excelsior looking for some shore leave. However, with the forty crew Ticonderoga had to land at a given moment, was actually just slightly buzzing with stall holders happy at the increased custom. I had to admit another small benefit of service on Ticonderoga rather than an Excelsior.

It was a sunny, pleasant day, with a very light breeze. It seemed like early afternoon local time.

Kiki announced, "This way. The nose knows."

Rachel said, "I have learned to trust that nose."

We walked a bit to a stand that sold marinated chicken on a stick. We all ordered. It was amazing. How little bits of chicken, marinated in some sort of sweet and savory sauce, stuck on little wooden sticks, and then roasted over a primitive charcoal fire could taste so amazing was beyond me. But they did.

Kiki announced, "I'm going to have a beer."

"Hey, that's against regulations." I said. I did not really feel it, but I was the Captain. Someone had to at least pretend to toe the line.

Rachel piped up, "Captain, you need to have one too. It's a tradition for shore leave. You have to have at least one."

Once again, outnumbered two to one, I surrendered gracefully.

The can of ice-cold beer I was handed by the stall holder had clearly been brewed here on Rae's World. It was gold and crisp. I could taste the mountains and the rivers, the struggles of spawning fish, deer flitting through mountain glades and birds overhead screaming in the wind. It was a good beer and it went with the chicken sticks amazingly. My mouth had forgotten again how good real food tasted. This was such a wonderful reminder.

"Hey, you need to put that away." Rachel admonished me, as I had snuck out a mini clip tablet to try and do some work while we ate.

"I know. I know, but it just piles up." I tried to beg off.

Rachel was having none of it. "You know, you need to delegate more of that. I'm your First Officer. You're supposed to be taking advantage of me by dumping most of that on me. I assure you; I'll promptly dump it on department heads and they down to their officers. Didn't you do this kind of thing on Dreadnought?"

In fact, I had. The system worked exactly like how Rachel said it did. I would have been offended if someone had written my subordinates' fitness reports. Who knew better than I did which one was coasting and which one was digging in? Doing it for me wouldn't have been a favor, it would be a statement that they thought I was incompetent.

"Yeah, they did." I said.

"You're working too hard." Kiki advised me sagely.

"So just let it work here too." Rachel asked.

"I don't know. I want to be a hands-on Captain." I said unsure.

Rachel turned and gave me a look like I was a slow child, "You need to get this garbage off your plate so you can be. In a lot of important ways, you're the only one who can think strategically for the ship. If you're wasting your time and mental energy on make work, you can't."

"That's true." I replied.

"This is also some key stuff for priming the ship's bilge pump." Rachel explained opaquely.

"What is that supposed to mean?" I asked.

Rachel gave me another look, "Every ship and every ship's morale runs on the bilge pump of scuttle butt. This paperwork pumping through the ship gives everyone something to think about other than the contents of your refresher. It's not pretty, but neither are the contents of Life Support's first tank. The ship needs both to survive."

"Well okay." I said in an amused voice.

Eventually, we had all eaten enough and I paid the three Credits for my meal. I was aware that if I had needed to go eat a meal like this near Star Fleet Command in San Francisco, it would have cost in excess of thirty Credits. If I had to choose, I would have chosen this one.

Kiki and Rachel led me on, and we browsed the market. We didn't need anything. We grazed on various food items. Kiki had me eat something called an "egg roll," which was very confusing because, while delicious, it didn't seem to have anything to do with eggs.

We found a booth that was selling homemade oatmeal soap.

"Oh, these are wonderful." Rachel said, picking up bars of soap and smelling.

"One minute." I said, pulled out my, still at my hip, tricorder I and scanned the soap.

After a moment's review I concluded, "These are okay. They won't interfere with life support."

The wrong kind of soap could have a toxic ingredient that would kill half the algae in the life support tanks. These were fine though.

We each left with a bar of soap in a little sack.

The last thing we found was a large booth selling cotton and wool cloth locally grown and woven.

They had these beautiful colors and the cloth felt so good to the hand.

One of the concerns I was starting to have was with our uniforms. There had been a time, when I was newly minted from the Academy, that I could have lived in my formal uniform and never left a ship. That moment was passing.

I realized as I walked around Audubon, I loved serving on Starships, but I needed to get off them too, feel real dirt under my feet from time to time. I also realized I could not live the rest of my life in formal uniform.

"Ladies," I announced, "we have a new project."

*** And now a word from our sponsor! ***

If you enjoy Star Wars and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three Star Wars novels I have written, all called Legend of the Harp also available on this site!

If you enjoy modern urban fantasy and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three novels I have written based on the Dresden Files universe of Jim Butcher, called Warlock of Omaha, Warlock of Omaha Squared and Warlock of Omaha Cubed!

This writer, like the storyteller in the market of old, now has a hat out hoping for a small gratuity. There is no obligation and I'm grateful you took a moment to read. However, if my writing has found favor in your eyes, please take a moment to go to:

Pay

Pal

.me

/hemaccabe

and throw in a little something, a dime, a quarter, a dollar, etc.

While I love to write, I do have a spouse and a child and a job and many other claims on my time that don't understand why I would spend so many hours banging on a keyboard. A small tangible return would help smooth the way to allow me to provide many more stories.

Please help. Thank-you.


	21. Chapter 21

**Star Trek Lost Destiny**

**By Hemaccabe**

**Book I: Race of Death**

**Chapter 21 Next Mission**

**ALL RIGHTS RESERVED**

We had finished loading all replaceable consumables for the ship. We also got a cargo like the last, filling our cargo transporter room. This one had some care packages but was mostly building supplies.

We would be making a delivery to Outpost Six.

Since the last major incident, Star Base 3 had been massively rebuilt.

Outposts Two, Three, Four and Eight, which had all been destroyed, had all been rebuilt along the same lines, with minefields and other defenses in depth.

Space is vast. No static defense can hope to stop an invading force, but the outposts could hope to detect and warn. They could also hope, for at least a short time, to deny the invading force complete freedom of operation. This could also buy the Federation and Starfleet valuable time to marshal our defenses.

In theory, the Romulans could simply go around the neutral zone. However, the main part of their Star Empire was on the other side of the agreed neutral zone. The Empire would have a massive job building infrastructure, moving ships and dealing with the logistics to do so if they wanted to go around. To the years of work and billions of Credit's worth of investment it would take to prepare such an option, the Federation could simply inform them we were extending the neutral zone and build a new outpost. We also both shared a border with the Klingons.

Unfortunately, such an effective strategy, developed with such thought and care by Archer and Sarek, was undermined by a Federation unwilling to put the few Credits necessary into maintaining it.

While the rebuilt Outposts were shining deterrents to a potential Romulan invasion, the other Outposts, One, Five, Six, Seven and Nine, were little changed from before the incident.

It also wouldn't hurt to actually add a few more outposts to help extend and tighten the deterrent as they did so at a rock bottom price.

There was a very slow-moving program to rebuild the surviving Outposts to a higher standard. As Outpost Six was considered the most vulnerable, it had been selected to be first. I knew Nine was supposed to come next. After that, who knew which?

It might not matter, because while Two, Three, Four and Eight had gone up in less than a year a piece, Six was still under construction. Assuming no further action on the border and at this rate, my grandchildren might not live long enough to see all the Outposts updated.

Still, there was a hardworking team of Star Fleet Core of Engineers working on Six right now. They needed their care packages.

My badly uniformed muse had to point out, "See, they're still just using you as a messenger."

My well-dressed muse replied, "We're still a new ship. We're still a new crew. You're still a very young Captain. There is nothing wrong with getting some time to figure things out. You're getting eyes on some valuable parts of the galaxy to season you. While Ticonderoga hasn't been sent to dice in the Triangle and the Azure Nebula, she is on the Romulan Neutral Zone right now. She is part of Star Fleet's strategic reserve and deterrent."

When I got anxious, I'd just have the well-dressed muse repeat herself. She was convincing.

It was a very uneventful trip back and forth to Outpost Six.

The actual visit was pleasant. The Outpost crew still manned in the same old outpost from before the incident. The outpost had been updated to some extent but was still like an artifact almost back to NCC-101 Enterprise days. The all-female outpost crew was very happy to welcome our slightly more male than female crew for a visit. I noticed that David did not go down.

We also got an up-close look at the construction of the new outpost. As with most large-scale construction projects, it was amazing.

We had the engineers aboard for a dinner.

"Thanks for having us for dinner. We were curious about your new ship." The Lieutenant in charge, Green, mentioned.

"We'll be happy to have Chief Engineer Preston give you a tour after dinner."

Chief Kinnebrew did his normal good work.

During dinner I asked, "What is taking so long with the construction?"

Lieutenant Green answered, "I get that question a lot. When they were rebuilding, they had a crew of over a thousand working all shifts. We are six. We're doing all we can as fast as we can, but we can't be a thousand."

Which explained the slow progress. Hopefully the Federation would figure out how important this work was before it was too late.

My dirty muse had to add, "Probably not."

Our lives settled into being part of the Romulan Neutral Zone strategic deterrent.

"Endless military patrol." My dirty muse pointed out.

"Still learning and doing." My shiny muse replied.

At least the food was good. We were getting back to Rae's World so often, the synthesizers barely needed to be used and were used more as a convenience than necessity.

We were producing so much of the algae paste, which was the main ingredient of the synthesizers, that we were leaving care packages at outposts and on Rae's World. An outpost's old Life Support might not produce enough. The paste could also be used to make things like emergency rations and there was a firm on Rae's World that produced them.

There were ships where meals of real food only happened once a year and they could not remember their last shore leave. This was soft duty. I knew I should be grateful. We could be tracking ion storms on the galactic rim, conserving paste and not having seen port in years.

I was taking my regular direction from CinC RSE DNZ. I had received no orders indicating he was my commanding officer or that this ship was assigned to his command.

I had comm'ed Admiral Kirk about it in writing.

He replied in writing as well.

"You may remember that when departing Sol space, you asked for Star Fleet and myself to provide a sponsor for the ship. It would have been nice if, say, the Secretary of the Federation's wife Melania was available.

"At the time, I explained that it would be better if this ship kept a low profile for the time being.

"Unfortunately, there are a number of strategic and political considerations that still make this advantageous.

"You're doing a good job so far. Yes, you should listen to CinC RSE DNZ's commands. He knows what I want you to do. If you're concerned, you're also welcome to contact me."

One project that took the edge off was uniforms. Once upon a time, Star Fleet uniforms were a lot more comfortable. Now Officers had the formal and dress uniforms, and nothing else. I did some research. As far back as the twentieth century, there had been another, more comfortable level of uniform, called "Duty." When Kirk was on his Five-Year Mission, they had worn a duty uniform almost exclusively. I didn't want to spend the rest of my career in a formal uniform. I wanted to bring that duty uniform back.

Every out and back gave us a day or two on Rae's Planet. Kiki, Rachel and I researched materials available. They had several booths where they provided some lovely materials.

Kiki asked, "Are you allowed to just go around changing the uniform?"

So, I gave her the answer my research had provided. "Regulations describe what the uniform should look like. However, the regulations specifically give me, as Captain, the right to select which uniform the crew is required to wear. Hence when you have heard me order formal or dress uniform.

"The regulations also give me broad discretion in the operation of my ship. Essentially, I'm allowed to do anything I haven't been specifically prohibited from doing. If you haven't noticed, our ship has been operating in a sort of grey zone. I think we should take advantage."

We settled on a particular material, it was a lovely pre-shrunk cotton. It felt light, breathed, but was still substantial and felt good against the skin. The problem was the three colors we liked, came from three different booths.

So, I had to engage in my first formal diplomacy of business negotiations. The two booths not providing the cloth were worried they weren't going to be paid.

All it took was for me to say, "I assure you. You will be paid." And the negotiations concluded.

For Science and Medical, Kiki had selected a really gorgeous royal/sky blue. For Engineering and Support, Rachel had a tougher time. At first, she liked a really bold red. Unfortunately, it clashed with all the maroon and plum in our uniforms badly. She finally found a really dramatic crimson that worked well.

For me, finding a gold was hard. I didn't want a yellow or a tan, or, worst of all, mustard. Finally, I found something that had an almost metallic rose gold.

"Wow, that gold really works for your eyes." Kiki opined.

We got material and started to make uniforms in my quarters.

We also worked on pants. Culottes pants had been part of the Star Fleet uniform for a long time. They had even been part of the Five-Year Mission Duty Uniform. To be honest, I had never liked them.

When I researched back to the original Earth Fleet uniforms, they had practical, comfortable pants. Somehow, those uniforms had grown up to be the enlisted jumpsuit of today and we officers had been stuck dressing like medieval harlequins.

We argued on and on about the pants. We were pretty sure we liked something like the tops on the Duty uniforms from the Five-Year Mission. For pants, Rachel and I liked something loose and Kiki wanted something tight.

Kiki explained, "I don't like it. It's not going to allow me to be feminine."

It might have been two against one, but somehow, despite both wanting something loose and practical, Rachel and I never liked the same thing.

Then one evening, as we worked, Rachel picked up my clip tablet. "Hey, what's this?" She asked.

I looked, it was uniforms from the original Earth Fleet and Enterprise.

"Oh, I was just looking at those for pant research." I explained.

Kiki looked and went, "Ooh," in an interested way.

Suddenly Kiki and Rachel both liked something. I looked again.

We hadn't been thinking of a jumpsuit, but if the jumpsuit fit?

We wouldn't do something exactly like the original jumpsuit. Ours would be updated a bit. The top would be in department color and the bottoms would be in basic black. Rather than zipping up the middle, it would retain the formal uniform's buttons on the right shoulder tunic construction. Still, they would have round cuffs at the ankle. The whole thing would be less fussy then the original. We also deleted all pockets and the back straps above the waist and made those below more discreet.

When we sewed up a prototype, it just got better. If one wanted looser and more comfortable, one could have that. If one wanted tighter and showier, like Kiki, one could have that. What was really amazing was how fast one could get into and out of them.

I spent a substantial portion of my day dressing. With all the workouts I did and the need to always look fresh, I had to change uniforms and dress in fresh clothing frequently. The formal uniform took a lot of dressing time.

I could jump into this jumpsuit and be on my way in less than half the time the formal took. I could really find uses for that time.

I also liked that even though we deleted all above the waist pockets, they still had plenty of very practical pockets in the pants.

The jumpsuit still anticipated an undershirt with a collar, which would be in basic black. If one was warm, the collar could be a dickie. I expected most would wear the shirt version, though sleeve length was also discretionary. If one was cold, the under suit could be a full set of long johns, perhaps insulated if one was really cold.

That left the boots.

The pointy toed harlequin boot was a legacy of many Federation member species feeling pointy toes were stylish and dignified. To my great chagrin, one of the leaders of this opinion was Vulcan. My grandfather, Ambassador Sarek, was all about the pointy toes.

These awful boots had been kept in inventory for over forty years by consistent technological improvement. The two big changes were auto-custom fitting and easy replacement. Auto-custom fitting was a simple system that would now be able to measure one's feet in three dimensions and produce boots custom fit for the person. This went well with an automated system that would make fresh new boots in a manner similar to the way the food synthesizers made food and recycle the old boots at will. It was still a bit of a chore, so most people didn't do it more than once a week.

If one got a fresh set of boots at least once a week that were perfectly fit to one's feet, it made many of the boot's weaknesses less prominent. Still, regulations allowed quite a bit of personal discretion in terms of boot choice, allowing individual officers to purchase boots they liked better. Admiral Kirk, when he was Captain Kirk during his Five-Year Mission, during his fight with the Gorn, was wearing non-standard boots he had probably purchased himself for comfort and function.

Still, these improved technologies meant that even though the boots were terrible, Star Fleet had judo'ed themselves with better technology keeping the boots just good enough to stay in service for decades.

We came up with an extremely hardy simu-rubber soled, round nosed, cloth boot with a multi-environment waterproof shell. The simu-rubber sole had a tread optimized for K-alloy decking, though it would handle other flat surfaces well too. We tested them on a variety of surfaces against the current standard boot and always won. The sole would be cushioned for better, more comfortable wear. We would be able to use the same auto-custom fitting and easy replacement. We also added, really Rachel added, a set of auto-tensioning laces. So, we could jump in these shoes and they would then tighten themselves to the perfect fit. Since the laces took some effort to make and couldn't just be re-synthesized, we added an all-weather flap to cover them.

The new shoe's top would go up easily under the ankle-length pant cuff but not up the calf.

The first time I put my feet in a pair of the new prototype shoes, I swear I wanted to sing.

All the time together for uniform design also left time for talk.

That day, David had walked me to the mess, and we'd had a cup of tea after our evening workout. David brewed the tea as he always did. He had some sort of touch with Darjeeling which just made the tea taste wonderful. We'd talked about minor matters.

"I've been doing research on Rae's World." He confided.

"That's excellent. I love to hear that the ship is fulfilling her charter as a vessel of science and discovery. Still, what's to discover about Rae's World?" I had replied enthusiastically but curiously.

"Rae's World is an unusually perfect M-Class world. Particularly for a planet with no native sapient species." David answered obscurely.

"So?" I asked.

"Many worlds fall into the category of being an M-Class, or Earth-like and suitable for human and human-like habitation. But it's a broad category. Some are better than others and Rae's World is better than most. Most worlds that are as nice as Rae's World have had some terraforming already. You've probably already noticed how pleasant it is to be down there?" David explained with a question.

"Yes, I have. It's amazing. I have life support use the transporters to swap the air on the ship every time we go. It leaves Ticonderoga smelling crisp and lovely for days."

"If I can get a sense of what processes led Rae's World to be so congenial, it could improve current terraforming techniques." David explained.

"Why this interest in terraforming?" I asked.

That made David smile, oh that smile, "I've always been interested in terraforming. _That_ project was all about terraforming. How it could be done faster, better, easier. In the end, it was too fast and too easy, which is what made people scared. I also cut too many corners for it to be stable. Still, it was all about terraforming. I think the lesson is that we can't cut corners. We have to make the long climb of knowledge. When we succeed, then we'll be ready for that kind of power."

It was so sexy when he talked about responsibility that way.

Later, I was in my quarters working with Kiki and Rachel on the uniforms. It was our normal evening in. Rachel made coffee. Kiki would make plates of snacks. We would discuss important matters of the ship or gossip like hens depending on your point of view. I admit I was distracted. I was thinking about David.

Rachel started. "I know that look. Captain Saavik, you are thinking about a man!"

I know I must have turned bright green.

Kiki then joined in, "Ohhh she is! Who is it? Who is it? You have to tell!"

I was so embarrassed. I think Rachel decided to ease up on me as she could tell.

"It's okay Saavik, you're allowed to be a person too."

Kiki then volunteered with a predatory smile, "Is it someone on Rae's World? I like to find someone with really exotic looks. Then I get 'em in the sack and make them buy me a meal. I like someone really tall and lanky best."

Rachel said, "I find I like old officers best. That wasn't hard to come by when I was newly minted ensign, but this ship is an incredibly barren wasteland! Soon, I'll be too old for them to seem old!"

They continued sharing notes which was very amusing, and I thought.

How did I feel about David now? I'm sure I could work with him as a gifted colleague. He was an unreasonably proficient scientist to have as Chief Science Officer on such a small ship. He was an excellent backstop for Rachel on scan and would also be available for Rachel if there was any problem with our fussy, very bleeding edge computer. He was also an MD and a great backup for Kiki should that be necessary.

What would a relationship between the two of us look like now? As his commanding officer, it might seem like it was completely inappropriate. I had too much power over his career. However, that was hardly the case.

We both knew that he was hardly invested in Star Fleet for a long career. Further, if he filed a complaint against me for some sort of relationship abuse, it would be far more damaging to my career than his. He wasn't a doe-eyed new enlisted. Still, it could damage morale if it was perceived that I had favorites.

Which avoided me thinking if I wanted him back that way. My body wanted him back. A lot. Did I still love him? Had I ever loved him? I thought I did.

I did choose to go to Dreadnought. I could have forsaken my career to go to Walter Reed with him. Stayed with him through his recovery. That's what a loving person would have done. Maybe that's why he didn't want me anymore and that was the crux of it. I had written to him at Walter Reed, he had only responded and only half-heartedly. It didn't matter if I wanted him back if he didn't want to come back. The real question was, did he want me back?

*** And now a word from our sponsor! ***

If you enjoy Star Wars and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three Star Wars novels I have written, all called Legend of the Harp also available on this site!

If you enjoy modern urban fantasy and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three novels I have written based on the Dresden Files universe of Jim Butcher, called Warlock of Omaha, Warlock of Omaha Squared and Warlock of Omaha Cubed!

This writer, like the storyteller in the market of old, now has a hat out hoping for a small gratuity. There is no obligation and I'm grateful you took a moment to read. However, if my writing has found favor in your eyes, please take a moment to go to:

Pay

Pal

.me

/hemaccabe

and throw in a little something, a dime, a quarter, a dollar, etc.

While I love to write, I do have a spouse and a child and a job and many other claims on my time that don't understand why I would spend so many hours banging on a keyboard. A small tangible return would help smooth the way to allow me to provide many more stories.

Please help. Thank-you.


	22. Chapter 22

**Star Trek Lost Destiny**

**By Hemaccabe**

**Book I: Race of Death**

**Chapter 22 Shoes and Dolls**

**ALL RIGHTS RESERVED**

(Authors Note: Yes, I'm screwing with the uniform and I'm going to do more. It's part of adjusting Star Trek so it looks like the best I can come up with for what it ought to look like based on both previously seen styles and real, makes sense, equipment. Of course, this is only my best shot at it. If you have much better ideas, please feel free to convey them to me politely. The world could also change tomorrow and what makes sense today could be a complete joke then. Not unlike pointy boots.

I would also point out that having had time to think about the uniform they're creating and having friends point this out, it does seem like an early bridge between ST II: TWOK and TNG. Yes, by Generations, they are still wearing the maroon formal uniform, however, that scene is very brief and is a situation where one would expect them to be wearing a formal or dress uniform. There is nothing to say there isn't a new duty uniform back in their closets in their quarters. By the beginning of TNG, they're wearing very sleek jumpsuits.

Also, I'm referencing a new device that I assume they must have, though I never remember seeing, a non-food synthesizer.

On Star Trek: Enterprise, Tripp describes using a magic tech replicator-like technology to dispose of waste, I believe in episode 7. We agree they use recycled material to make physical items, like boots. We also agree they would be doing hydroponic gardening for fresh fruits, vegetables and spices. However, I believe they would be using a more basic, possible now, bacteria tanks to break down and compost "waste" before using it to feed algae/plankton tanks that would be producing lots of oxygen and algae/plankton paste that would be used as the main ingredient in food synthesizers. The tanks would be cleaned by snails which could also be harvested for food. There might also be a shrimp tank where shrimp are farmed using algae and krill.

For those who didn't get it, at this point in Trek history the easy solution of replicators does not yet exist. The food synthesizers in this Trek time period make food from precursor chemical ingredients and algae paste. The food is like the food one might buy now at cheap restaurants and supermarkets that has no relation to real food, just made of stirred up chemicals. Unlike the versions available now, the synthesizer food is healthy and generally tastes good. However, most people still prefer "real" food.

There are also devices that make basic ship's necessities like uniforms and boots. This isn't as easy as making food, so most people will keep their uniforms and boots for some time, caring for them and using a "refresher" to clean them from time to time. Once again, getting products that have a natural origin will be perceived as better/more authentic/more luxurious/more desirable and possibly worth spending some Credits on.

BTW, I'm a big fan of the Star Fleet Technical Manual which is available online for free download as a PDF. I'd recommend one peruse it. Not everything in the SFTM is canon to Lost Destiny, but much is. There are a few errors in there, like the way it describes Dreadnought as ship class rather than as a named Battleship, sigh. One other area is in uniforms. The Commodore sleeve we see twice in the OS and is clearly two solid lines with gold completely filling in between, is not shown properly. We also don't get sleeves for Ensigns and Lieutenant Junior Grades. The Ensign would be no markings and Lieutenant Junior Grade would be one broken line. Don't be hard on him, Franz was writing that book before there were concepts like word processors available and he was doing it for love with no hope that he would profit from it in any way. My compliments. Also, not a technical error, but in Lost Destiny, the government that unites Earth is not the United Nations. The UN dies during the Last World War. Humanity eventually unites under the Zephram Cochrane-led, Vulcan-backed, United Earth.)

With the basic decisions done, the new duty uniform fell into place quickly.

One could get a version of the Duty Uniform custom tailored with real cloth like Rachel, Kiki and I had done. We had prepared instructions and had ready tailors and cloth providers on Cynthia's World who would help accommodate the fashion forward. However, we also programed the ship's synthesizer to make them the same as they would make fresh uniforms now.

I wrote a set of regulations to cover how the new Duty uniforms should be worn. Kiki programed the ship's synthesizer and Rachel made a batch of the auto-laces. The synthesizer could not manage laces, so one would have to keep one's auto-laces taking them out of old shoes and installing them in new shoes.

We were ready.

We held a shipwide meeting via video screens in the various mess halls throughout the ship and we introduced the Duty uniform.

Reception was almost universally popular. People liked how good the Formal Uniform made them look and didn't want to give them up, but they also wanted something simpler for day to day. So, our solution hit a chord.

There were questions.

"Do you have a new uniform for enlisted?"

I answered that, "No we do not. We apologize if you feel left out. Essentially, we officers were trying to catch up with your comfortable Duty uniform jumpsuits. If there is a demand from enlisted crew for a new Duty uniform or a Formal Uniform, I would be happy to sponsor a uniform committee of enlisted crew who could work on it and eventually make presentations. The new boots will be available as Duty boots for enlisted as well."

"Will this uniform replace the Engineering or Security uniform?"

"No, those uniforms have specific functional reasoning. They will remain. However, if there are any ideas for improving them, I would be happy to hear them."

Most of the other questions were minor details about things like "where were the pockets," or "how one would get out to use the bathroom, etc."

I started to assign the Duty Uniform on days when we would be expected to be out in space.

I was gratified to find out that back, knee and hip complaints dropped as did injuries due to slipping. My uniform was keeping the crew healthier.

During the months since we had gotten underway, I was spending more time with David. He was always polite, deferential, and was smiling pleasant company. What I couldn't determine was, how did he feel about me?

Was it just polite collegiality? Or was it more?

During moments like this, I particularly missed Becky. Her encyclopedic knowledge of human mating customs would have been able to solve this conundrum in moments.

"How did you become such an expert in human mating rituals?" I had asked her not long after we had been assigned to the same dorm room.

Apparently, she found my question amusing because she snorted some of her fizzy drink up through her nose. "Human mating rituals? Well, I guess they could be called that.

"My parents sent me to a prestigious, private high school. There was always a lot going on there. The hook-ups and break-ups. The one-night stands and the cheating, and, every so often, true eternal love, even if only for one night. Trust me, you go to a place like that, you learn a lot."

Becky had always guided me gently through the relationship maze that was life in Star Fleet Academy. I could use her help right now.

I was still hanging out with Rachel and Kiki at least once a week for our "coffee klatsch." I'm sure they could give me good advice, but to be honest, I was scared of their teasing and humiliation.

The simple thing to do would be to just ask David directly, but while I thought it would be possible to carry on a relationship as Captain of the ship, starting the relationship was a bit more problematic.

When our relationship had begun on Grissom, we had been, essentially, equals. If anything, he was the indispensable scientist and I was the anonymous, replaceable Star Fleet Officer.

Now, if I put my self-esteem on a platter, offered it to him and he declined, I would be humiliated. That would be bad under the best of circumstances. As Captain, if I was publicly humiliated, it might damage my ability to command.

I asked David after his Mother.

"Mom is doing fine. Obviously, she didn't want to go back to Regula-1. The memories after Khan were too awful. That had been her personal fiefdom. She didn't want to study _that _place for the same reason. After lecturing for a while, she did accept leading a Star Fleet supported science mission to study exotic terraforming techniques."

Without thinking, out of my mouth came, "I wonder if she is seeing Admiral Kirk?"

I felt so embarrassed having said that, but it didn't seem to bother David at all.

"Yeah, I was kinda wondering that too. Couldn't get her to say anything. I had to use the 'Uncle Bones' connection." David replied with a laugh.

David was referring to Dr. McCoy, whom all the children in our generation called "Uncle Bones." That was in deference to the fact he did not like to be called, "Grandpa Bones."

For all their apparent animosity, my father Ambassador Spock, would trust no other physician with me than Uncle Bones.

I remembered our first meeting. I was fresh from Remus and terrified of everything. I had absorbed enough Romulan anti-human propaganda to be especially scared of this strange old round eared man. I sat vibrating in my chair unwilling to cooperate in any way. Of course, Uncle Bones had a way of dealing with that.

He pulled out something I had never seen before. A brightly colored translucent disc at the end of a white paper stick. The brightly colored translucent disc part of the object seemed to be covered by transparent plastic. He offered the brightly colored object to me. I had no idea what it was and wouldn't move, much less touch it.

The old Human held up the object and said, "This is called a lollipop."

I didn't move.

He nodded and smiled, unwrapped the lollipop, licked it and offered it to me again.

Now I grasped it was some sort of food.

For food I was ready to take any action, I snatched the lollipop and put it in my mouth. OH MY GOODNESS!

Romulan and Vulcan food have one thing in common, by human standards, they are very bland, tending toward bitter. I had an appreciation of sweets, that I would suspect, was just as strong as a typical human child's. I had just never had anything sweet before.

Nothing in my life had prepared me for that flavor.

Ambassador Spock said, "I told you I did not believe she would respond."

Uncle Bones just smiled at him and then turned to me and said, "If you cooperate, you can have another at the end."

I cooperated. I would have happily signed myself away for a life of hard labor for another lollipop.

I could tell that Ambassador Spock was annoyed at how I was responding.

At the end of the exam, Uncle Bones had to administer a variety of unpleasant treatments immediately and provided prescriptions for other concerns. I had accumulated a number of issues and parasites living on the streets of Remus. For the lollipop, I cooperated.

At the end, Uncle Bones pulled out something else in addition to a fistful of lollipops. He pulled out a small object, it was shaped like a Vulcan girl. It was, perhaps, a third of a meter tall. It was wearing a beautiful dress that was deep blue with little silver stars. She had beautiful long dark brown curly hair and green eyes. She came with a little enameled, jeweled brush.

I wanted to hold that object so badly. I had never owned a toy and did not, at that moment, know what a toy was.

Uncle Bones looked at me and said, "This is a big responsibility. I want to give you this dolly to care for. Do you think you can take care of this dolly?"

I nodded wonderstruck.

"Good," Uncle Bones continued, "because she's had a bad time. People haven't been so nice to her. I think I can trust you to take good care of her."

I nodded again.

"What I want you to do is, anytime this dolly is feeling bad about the way people treated or treat this dolly, I want you to comfort her the way she should be comforted. Can you do that?"

I nodded again.

Uncle Bones gave me the dolly.

I didn't stop hugging that dolly for two straight days. I wouldn't put it down for over a month. Ambassador Spock, who had been reluctant to hug me, because it was not the Vulcan way, did his best to hug me. It was awkward, but I found it very comforting. I think it goaded Ambassador Spock to finally take me to visit his mother, Grandma Amanda.

Grandma Amanda later explained Spock had hesitated to introduce her to me because he was worried she wouldn't be Vulcan appropriate with me, which is to say, too openly affectionate. Grandma Amanda turned out to be very skilled at hugging, so I loved her immediately. Grandma Amanda also proved to be excellent at making chocolate chip cookies and showing me how to brush the dolly's hair. She would also show me how to take care of myself and brushed my hair for long periods.

The doll was with my possessions on Grissom.

Still, to this day, no one knew what was happening in the lives of the former Enterprise crew better than Uncle Bones, especially what Admiral Kirk was up to.

David continued, "Uncle Bones told me that the ship Mom was assigned to, happened to be in the same sector that the Enterprise was assigned to patrol. They have both taken some long leaves to the same places. Mom has also visited him on Enterprise.

"They're two complicated, stubborn people, but I think they're slowly pulling together."

So, my relationship with David puttered along. It seemed we were always getting a little closer. Perhaps I was fooling myself as I hyper-analyzed every detail of every meeting, measuring how close his finger had gotten to mine. Did he stand one-half millimeter closer today? Was it because he felt closer or the mess was more busy? Was his smile a little more pronounced? Etc.

I thought we were, very painfully slowly, coming back together. A little bit each day. If I was just patient long enough, it might happen. Like Admiral Kirk and his Mom.

Then disaster struck.

That evening, after our mutual shift ended, I had been talking to James about various things. We had started by talking about Helm issues on this ship. Then Helm issues in general. Then somehow things had wandered over to Becky and we talked about her. We had both taken a moment to visit with her parents when we had been in San Francisco. Then James walked me back to my quarters. This didn't seem terribly unusual. As a department head, his quarters were also on Deck B. His quarters were more towards the bow, and mine to the stern closest to the Bridge, but Ticonderoga's whole primary hull wasn't that big, and Deck B was one of the smallest decks.

Then, without warning, James leaned in, took me in his arms, and kissed me!

He kissed me hard and full on the mouth like he meant it!

For a moment, it felt really good. I had always kind of wondered what Becky was feeling when I had seen her kissing James.

Then, over James' shoulder, I saw David, whose quarters were right next to mine, was standing right there. He had a sad look on his face. Before I could do anything, David was in his quarters.

I pushed James away.

"Mr. Winter, that sort of behavior is not desired!" I said in my best authoritative command voice.

James backed up, but he looked confused, "I thought…I'm sorry, I thought the way you looked at me, that you wanted something to happen. I thought you engineered my transfer here because you wanted something to happen."

"I did not engineer your transfer here. However you were transferred here, it was not by me seeking for this to happen. In case any other rumors start along those lines, I did not pick any member of the crew. As a very junior, first time, commanding Commander, I got the crew assigned to me."

James snapped to attention, "This Lieutenant extends his deepest apologies for his recent conduct. This Lieutenant promises that this conduct will not be repeated!"

I nodded, remembering kissing Commander Witlin, "Apology accepted, assuming this conduct is not repeated. Dismissed."

Mr. Winter replied, "Thank-you Sir."

Then he snapped a parade ground turn and marched off to his own quarters.

I went into my own quarters. I wasn't terribly upset with James. I wasn't an expert, but maybe some of what I had been sending could have been interpreted as come hither. He was only doing what I wanted David to do. Maybe he had seen looks I had been sending to David, oblivious of who else was there, and thinking they were for him.

I was furious with myself. I had let the kiss go on for that extra split-second moment. If I had stopped it right away, David would have seen that wasn't what I wanted. Instead I had indulged myself and what would David think now? Was there any way to fix this mess?

*** And now a word from our sponsor! ***

If you enjoy Star Wars and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three Star Wars novels I have written, all called Legend of the Harp also available on this site!

If you enjoy modern urban fantasy and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three novels I have written based on the Dresden Files universe of Jim Butcher, called Warlock of Omaha, Warlock of Omaha Squared and Warlock of Omaha Cubed!

This writer, like the storyteller in the market of old, now has a hat out hoping for a small gratuity. There is no obligation and I'm grateful you took a moment to read. However, if my writing has found favor in your eyes, please take a moment to go to:

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/hemaccabe

and throw in a little something, a dime, a quarter, a dollar, etc.

While I love to write, I do have a spouse and a child and a job and many other claims on my time that don't understand why I would spend so many hours banging on a keyboard. A small tangible return would help smooth the way to allow me to provide many more stories.

Please help. Thank-you.


	23. Chapter 23

**Star Trek Lost Destiny**

**By Hemaccabe**

**Book I: Race of Death**

**Chapter 23 Shooting**

**ALL RIGHTS RESERVED**

(Author's Note: In case it's not clear. FPPSA is based on USPSA which is something real that exists now and can be looked up with a google search.

If you own a pistol and intend to use it for self-defense, I strongly recommend you participate in the training that USPSA provides.

If you don't own a weapon, I strongly recommend you change the poor political and personal choices you are making and get one.

Police are there to fill out reports after the fact. The armed security you think protects you is there for a paycheck, not to die for you. The only thing that will be there to protect you when the chips go down will be you. The only way to then successfully protect yourself will likely be with a firearm. I want you to live. Make a better choice. In case it's not clear, this author wants you to live very much.)

We also had time to get other activities underway. FPPSA got started. Unlike Grissom, we had enough shooters to form three solid teams. There was my team, the Officers. Chief T'avor's team, built around him and his security personnel, the Enlisted team and Peter's team, the Engineering team. Chief T'avor drilled his men on shooting every day and he drilled them hard.

I stopped by from time to time to practice with Security. That was another little bit of wisdom from Admiral Kirk. While there, I learned one of Chief T'avor's favorite sayings was, "The more you sweat when you train, the less you bleed when you fight!"

It was interesting, when teaching Andorian Boxing, a discipline that seemed to be designed for rowdy bar fighting, T'avor was always quiet, like some sort of Vulcan ascetic monk. When teaching shooting, a discipline that seemed to require careful, quiet mastery, he yelled like a drunken drill instructor. Whatever his methods, they worked.

We also started holding a weekly card game in the officer's mess. The competition here was tougher than my little crew on Dreadnought, but I held my own.

Where we didn't hold our own was in FPPSA. We scored just above even with Peter and his Engineering team, though I was lucky to have held onto Rachel. She wore a red Engineering and Support shirt and could have played with them. Since she was the best shooter on the Officer team after me, that would have been a big loss. But T'avor and his Security-heavy enlisted team were thumping us both.

As we sat down in my quarters where we used to have, what Rachel called, our "coffee klatsch," over figuring out the new Duty uniform. Now we were mostly using it to gripe about how T'avor was destroying us at FPPSA.

"Maybe if we could get some sort of targeting system?" I mused out loud as we bounced different ideas around.

Rachel responded, "I could set up some sort of heads up display in a transparent face visor?"

"What?" I said confused. I had never heard of such an idea.

Rachel continued, "I mean, in theory, if we had a head's up display that interacted with our phasers as a targeting system, once again in theory, we could shoot faster and more accurately. Oh my god, Kiki, what is this? It's so good!"

Rachel said the last bit having just eaten one of Kiki's hors d'oeuvres.

Kiki gave a satisfied smile and said, "Oh, just another recipe I researched up."

Just then I was hailed. I clicked on the screen in my quarters. It was T'avor and his security/enlisted team in the enlisted mess celebrating their recent trouncing of our team.

"I just wanted to congratulate you again on your good sportsmanship and substantial improvement from the last match. We are looking forward to playing you again next month." T'avor said with a smile on his mouth clearly trying to pretend he wasn't calling to rub it in.

"Thank-you. See you next month." I responded and then shut down.

I looked up at Rachel and said, "Get David. Make this face visor heads up display happen asap."

Four days later we had visors. We had to train with them a bit, but they worked. You could see exactly where the phaser was aiming. It sped firing dramatically while increasing accuracy greatly. FPPSA was all about fast accurate shooting. That's why it was a valuable discipline for Star Fleet Personnel.

We practiced with our new toy hard. We declined to use the visors on our next match with Engineering. The results were a toss-up. We had won, but the results were so close it was meaningless. If anything, as trained officers, we should have done much better than the less trained enlisted Engineers. That the enlisted Engineers had held their own so well was far more impressive. I said as much to them and I hope it didn't come out patronizing.

Then two weeks later, it was on with T'avor's Security/Enlisted team.

We pulled out the visors and slapped them down hard. It was sweet.

After the match, T'avor asked to see a visor and my sense of courtesy to a fellow member of Star Fleet righted itself so I showed him mine.

"This is remarkable." T'avor ventured in analysis then asked, "Where did you get this?"

I answered him simply feeling a bit sheepish, "We made them."

T'avor's eyes bugged out and his antennae stood on end. That made everything worthwhile, "You made them?"

"Yes, we made them."

"You realize you just proved concept on a whole new sighting system?" T'avor pointed out.

That was like a verbal thump on my head. I had been so focused on winning an FPPSA match. Creating something that could be of benefit to all of Star Fleet had not been our goal. What T'avor was saying was that we might just have done that.

(Author's Note: For people not familiar with how this works, this is exactly how new developments are, and have been, made in firearms for some time. Government and large commercial research projects have been consistent failures. The US military has been painfully dependent on the US civilian market for upgrades to their weapons for decades. The lives of thousands of US soldiers and foreign civilians have been saved directly by having a large, robust domestic firearms market here in the US. Many of the best developers in the US civilian market are former military people who are trying to leverage the enormous expertise they have developed in the service to help those still in harm's way.

I'm flipping the script a bit having real technical developments influence Star Trek rather than the other way around. Even now, we are rolling out sighting systems similar to what I'm describing in this story and they are being done by private developers for the civilian market, not some government research lab. Those sighting systems wouldn't have happened without the domestic civilian market and will likely be critical in saving thousands of US soldier's lives in the future. One would also point out that as US soldiers become more accurate, that saves the lives of thousands of innocent foreign civilians who might have been killed as collateral damage.)

*** And now a word from our sponsor! ***

If you enjoy Star Wars and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three Star Wars novels I have written, all called Legend of the Harp also available on this site!

If you enjoy modern urban fantasy and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three novels I have written based on the Dresden Files universe of Jim Butcher, called Warlock of Omaha, Warlock of Omaha Squared and Warlock of Omaha Cubed!

This writer, like the storyteller in the market of old, now has a hat out hoping for a small gratuity. There is no obligation and I'm grateful you took a moment to read. However, if my writing has found favor in your eyes, please take a moment to go to:

Pay

Pal

.me

/hemaccabe

and throw in a little something, a dime, a quarter, a dollar, etc.

While I love to write, I do have a spouse and a child and a job and many other claims on my time that don't understand why I would spend so many hours banging on a keyboard. A small tangible return would help smooth the way to allow me to provide many more stories.

Please help. Thank-you.


	24. Chapter 24

**Star Trek Lost Destiny**

**By Hemaccabe**

**Book I: Race of Death**

**Chapter 24 Party**

**ALL RIGHTS RESERVED**

We had all this time available to us because we were still acting as a transport delivering small loads of supplies to various outposts from Star Base 3. It was pleasant work, every time we got back to Star Base 3, located near Rae's World in the same system, we would get one or more days available for shore leave. We would also get to refill our larders with new fresh food supplies, so we were almost always eating fresh food.

While we had not been directly ordered to do so, we were serious about also being a useful patrol using our new sensor system and the AEGIS computer system, as well as our personnel, to search for any Romulan incursion. So far, we had found none.

One of my other weekly activities was a meeting of Department Heads. It sounds very forward looking and hands on, which is part of the reason I did it, so I would look good in reports, but generally not much got done. Each department head would give a report that basically went, "Another week, same thing happened."

Every so often it was a moment to hash out some interdepartmental issue or discuss various new policies, which made it just valuable enough to continue.

Still, I had high hopes for this week's meeting, because when I ended last week's with the standard, "Any new business?"

Peter had responded by standing up and announcing, "I propose that we request formal shore leave to Coridan. Very shortly, Coridan will be hosting an F1 Grand Prix or space race. This event will occur very close to the Romulan DNZ. It will be a major gathering. It would be useful to have a Star Fleet vessel present to provide security. It will also be good publicity for Star Fleet to simply be present. It will also provide a unique opportunity for shore leave."

That had gotten a lot of people excited and talking.

I ended it by saying, "Mr. Preston, I endorse your idea. I would like you to assist me in making a formal presentation on this idea to CinC RSE DNZ."

Later, after investing a great deal of time painstakingly preparing a presentation, we had contacted CinC RSE DNZ. We were all set to give an extended argument. Peter began by reviewing what he had said before.

Then CinC RSE DNZ interrupted and said, "Sounds like a great idea. Approved."

Well, that was the answer we wanted though we were surprised to get it so easily.

Still, we thanked CinC RSE DNZ and said good-bye.

So, this week, we were ready to hear Mr. Preston's report about the race.

We all sat down at the conference table. We hadn't even tried to keep it a secret that the shore leave to Coridan had been approved, so many throughout the ship were watching along eagerly. This presentation was being recorded as well, so others could watch, or re-watch, it later.

Mr. Preston stood up, had turned down the lights in the conference room and was going to use the main screen.

Mr. Preston began by bringing up an image of the Coridan system.

"Coridan was accepted into the Federation just over twenty-five years ago during the famous Babel Conference which also saw the establishment of the modern Federation of Planets.

"Coridan has a small native population of humanoid inhabitants.

"They occupy the fourth planet of the system, an M class world. It's a little warmer, smaller and higher gravity than Earth. It also has a longer solar year.

"Coridan is also well known for deposits of dilithium crystals. These deposits are located in an asteroid belt just before the system's single gas giant.

"Prior to admission into the Federation, these deposits had been raided by Orions, Romulans and"

Here Mr. Preston stopped and looked Puerka. He was also updating the pictures on the screen to follow his presentation.

"other interests. However, now that Coridan is a protectorate of the Federation and a Federation member, the dilithium deposits are being responsibly managed for the benefit of the system's population.

"This has led to the happy outcomes anticipated at the Babel Conference. The people of Coridan, who had been living in difficult circumstances, now have the exchange Credits and Federation assistance to build better and more secure lives for themselves.

"In turn, the Federation is enjoying the economic benefits of reduced costs for, and a more predictable supply of, dilithium that having these deposits responsibly managed provide.

"In fact, Coridan is doing so well, they are seeking to expand their economy from being completely dependent on dilithium mining. Part of this program has been to market themselves as a new, prosperous place, ready for investment. This marketing has included convincing the F1 Grand Prix race circuit to hold a race here in the Coridan system.

"The F1 Grand Prix circuit is the most competitive and prestigious of all current space race circuits. Each race is a major event and it was a substantial achievement for Coridan to have been selected as a host.

"A standard F1 Grand Prix occurs around a designated weekend. There are ten teams. Currently five teams are human, one team is Vulcan, two teams are Andorian, one team is Tellarite and one is mixed. Each team will field two single pilot race craft.

"Interestingly, there have historically also been one Klingon and one Romulan team. Both teams had difficulty following the rules. In addition, the Klingon team also had difficulty due to frequent crashes. The Romulan team, sponsored by the Romulan government, shut down when the Romulan government decided the expense was not worthwhile.

"Fielding a team is fantastically expensive. While not directly correlated, teams that are willing to spend more, tend to be more successful. This leads to some teams being more dominant and those with leaner budgets being less likely to succeed. Strangely, the three most dominant and the two weakest teams are currently the human teams.

"Events officially begin on a Thursday. However, most teams like to arrive by Wednesday. As I said, competing in F1 is fantastically expensive. Each team needs a main vessel capable of a minimum of warp 3 just to compete. Warp 3 commercial vessels are expensive. None of the team ships is less than warp 4 capable. There is an advantage to having a faster ship and the three top teams have warp 7 capable ships. I don't think I need to explain how dazzlingly expensive that is. This main team vessel carries the race team personnel, their workshops and facilities and launch bays for the two race craft. Everything the team will need for the competition. Obviously, the better funded teams will have larger, more comfortable ships, with more personnel and more facilities aboard.

"The official race team main ships are all built to certain uniform design criteria, which means they can all hook together in place forming what is known as 'Pit Row.'

"Then the F1 headquarter ship, 'The Main Grandstand' arrives and connects to Pit Row. Afterward, secondary grandstand ships will arrive. Depending on licensing, they will either be directly linked, which is preferable, or served by lighter, which is less preferable. Many unlicensed grandstand ships and space tourism liners will also arrive because space is a big place and one can watch the race from many angles. We may also expect a wide variety of folk with personal ships will arrive. Lastly, a regatta of the space yachts of the super wealthy will also arrive. An F1 race is definitely the kind of glamorous place where the galactic one percent like to see and be seen.

"On Thursday, all the teams will have open houses and there will be activities in The Main Grandstand ranging from inexpensive family fare to super-luxury class parties.

"Friday will see all the teams doing warm up runs. These will be particularly important as this will be a new, never before used track.

"Saturday will have qualifying runs. The best qualifying runs get the best starting positions. Normally, there is another race event as well. This event will have an F2 race.

"Sunday will start with another race event, this time a GP3 race. F2 and GP3 are the next two steps down from F1. They can be thought of as a minor league for F1 but racing in these events is still extremely competitive. After the GP3 race, will be the main race early Sunday afternoon. Normally the race takes two to three hours. After the race, they have a podium ceremony. The F1 race and podium ceremony will be broadcast throughout the Federation. They are some of the most viewed events known. Then there is generally celebration until early Monday morning.

"The teams themselves will be breaking down pit row as quickly as possible. They will need to, at a minimum, service their race craft. Teams whose race craft have crashed or suffered breakdowns will be feverishly working to repair their racers. All teams will have to move quickly to get to the next race location."

At this point Mr. Preston sat down and I got up and began to speak.

"This all means that Coridan will be a target rich environment for a hostile power to attack. The race alone would be a worthwhile target. However, the system also holds one of the Federation's primary sources of dilithium crystals. All of this, very close to the Romulan Neutral Zone. We have been approved to divert to Coridan where we will provide security and protection for the system as a whole. We will need to be at the very top of our performance capabilities to be prepared.

"However, we have also been granted the opportunity to engage in shore leave."

At this point I stopped because I could hear cheering throughout the ship.

When the cheering died down, I continued, "Your senior officers and I will work very hard to give all of you the most opportunity to enjoy the widest selection of activities. Please submit preferences to you officers. I can't guarantee we will honor all of them, but we will do our best. Dress off ship will be formal or dress, depending on circumstances."

So, we were committed. I worked with all department heads to try and make sure that the most crew could have the most shore leave with their most desired preferences. There would be disappointments, but it seemed like we would also make a lot of crew very happy.

I was sitting in my office when I got a message from Comms, specifically, Ensign Zoey, one of Rachel's understudies, "Captain, we have a Mr. Galoorb online trying to contact you.

Puzzled, I replied, "Put him through to me here in my office."

As soon as Mr. Galoorb appeared on my screen, I could see he was an Ithenite. I had never spoken with an Ithenite before.

"Let me introduce myself. My name is Mr. Galoorb. I am the Chief Executive of the Formula One Group. I understand you and your ship will be provided to the Coridan Grand Prix as an additional attraction."

"I would not characterize it in that way." I replied, but Mr. Galoorb continued.

"We need to make sure your ship fits into our already existing specific plans. These plans are made well in advance by some of the top promotions professionals in the Federation. We must follow them carefully!"

"Mr. Galoorb, we do not desire to cause you any inconvenience. However, my ship is not going to be at this race as a tourist attraction. We will be there to provide security. It is not my current intention to interfere in any way. However, should I become concerned about security, as the ranking Star Fleet officer present, I will expect my orders to be obeyed swiftly by all involved." I replied.

Mr. Galoorb was non-plussed. "I have extensive Federation government connections. I will not be toyed with."

Considering his stature and bright golden color, it was an act of self-control worthy of Surak that I did not giggle.

From there we started to negotiate. Basically, I just intended to have Ticonderoga patrol and scan. Hopefully, we would be able to detect any intervention early. Then we would, hopefully, have the resources to react.

It seemed like Mr. Galoorb wanted us to be a sort of upgraded ice sculpture to lend additional prestige to the event.

I thought I saw an opening, "I might be prepared to participate in certain activities. However, I have a crew that is looking forward to some shore leave. Perhaps if we could get certain ticket concessions, we might see our way to be more cooperative."

Mr. Galoorb smiled slyly. I was playing to the way he felt business got done. I was following Admiral Kirk's advice to try and understand the other party and the way they expected to be approached in negotiations. I made certain agreements I didn't feel were terribly binding. If a Romulan Bird of Prey showed up, I would do what I saw fit. However, if I could get batches of party and venue tickets which could be distributed to my crew, without compromising the dignity of Star Fleet, I found that quite acceptable.

I was also aware that Star Fleet liked to use large events like this to try and build good public relations. Perhaps we could encourage a next generation to sign up for service by seeing a little glamour in what we did.

I was also painfully aware I was going to be threading a needle over the course of this weekend. The need for security was real. If someone, particularly the Romulans, decided to show up and make trouble, I would need all hands on deck sharp and ready. At the same time, this was a once in a lifetime opportunity for a lot of my crew, particularly the enlisteds, who did not generally come from the galactic one percent, to be at such an event. Yes, we had been having pretty easy duty for a while, but even that was getting a bit monotonous. If I kept them cooped up on the ship and nothing happened, morale would take a big hit.

I would always do anything I could within my power and duty to get more for my crew. But I was hoping some extra passes to premium events would help ease the pain of time during the event when crew would be stuck tending ship.

*** And now a word from our sponsor! ***

If you enjoy Star Wars and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three Star Wars novels I have written, all called Legend of the Harp also available on this site!

If you enjoy modern urban fantasy and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three novels I have written based on the Dresden Files universe of Jim Butcher, called Warlock of Omaha, Warlock of Omaha Squared and Warlock of Omaha Cubed!

This writer, like the storyteller in the market of old, now has a hat out hoping for a small gratuity. There is no obligation and I'm grateful you took a moment to read. However, if my writing has found favor in your eyes, please take a moment to go to:

Pay

Pal

.me

/hemaccabe

and throw in a little something, a dime, a quarter, a dollar, etc.

While I love to write, I do have a spouse and a child and a job and many other claims on my time that don't understand why I would spend so many hours banging on a keyboard. A small tangible return would help smooth the way to allow me to provide many more stories.

Please help. Thank-you.


	25. Chapter 25

**Star Trek Lost Destiny**

**By Hemaccabe**

**Book I: Race of Death**

**Chapter 25: Briefing**

**ALL RIGHTS RESERVED**

(Author's Note: Saavik and Mr. Spock. I know a lot of Star Trek ink has been spilled that believes that Saavik and Mr. Spock did the deed on the Genesis planet during the events of STIII: TSFS. It even goes so far as to indicate that they had a daughter and were married. I disagree and that is not canon for Lost Destiny.

Let's take a look at the evidence. In ST III, we definitely see Saavik promise to help a young proto-Spock who is suffering from Pon Far. They touch and rub fingers in a sign of connection. That's it. We don't see them later naked under a blanket or any other evidence. Saavik never even takes off her field jacket. Compared to the finger rubbing we see in the Enterprise Incident; it seems pretty tame.

We also have a very canon episode, Amok Time, along with that episode's novelization, where we get some insight as to what might be happening here. Clearly, Vulcan youth are betrothed young. However, that episode depicts what seems to be Spock's first visit home to consummate the marriage. Spock is no spring chicken at that point. He's probably in at least his thirties or forties. The betrothal seemed to involve connecting the two in some sort of permanent psychic telepathic bond, but that's it. No physical hanky panky.

At most we might imagine that Saavik agreed to a psychic bond with the porch light's on but no one's home version of Spock on the Genesis planet. Even that isn't certain, all she's promising to do is help.

I would also point out that there is a deleted scene in ST II which shows Admiral Kirk introducing an already flirtatious Saavik and David Marcus.

For Lost Destiny, it should be clear there was no hanky panky. Their relationship is that of Father and Daughter.

I also want to address a second issue. Coridan is referred to in the TOS episode Journey to Babel where it is described as something of a wild and wooly frontier civilization needing help. Coridan also appears in the Star Trek: Enterprise Episode, Shadows of P'jem. The version of Coridan that shows up in STE does not jive with Coridan in ST: TOS. As always in ST: Lost Destiny, TOS wins. The version of Coridan used in ST: Lost Destiny reflects the description given in TOS plus 25 happy years.

In Star Trek: Enterprise Episode, Shadows of P'jem, I'd like to think the writers were trying to pay homage to a name referenced in TOS. Once again, because they didn't actually watch TOS, they blew it. The Star Trek: Enterprise Episode, Shadows of P'jem is not a complete waste though, if one simply imagines in Tellarites instead of the aliens we see and calls the planet Tellar Prime, the episode fits perfectly in Star Trek in general and Lost Destiny in particular.)

Mr. Galoorb had ponied up a pile of passes to various premium events on all days. I hadn't promised anything that compromised our mission or dignity. There was even an activity we had come up with together that was something I thought the crew might like.

I decided to hold another briefing. I was having a very difficult time striking the balance between readiness and shore leave. Give up too much shore leave, and we wouldn't be ready if the time came. Give up too little and the crew might never forgive me. I hoped another briefing would help them see things the way I did.

Senior officers assembled as normal in the Deck B conference room. Crew and remaining officers gathered in mess/rec rooms throughout the ship. I invited Peter to speak first.

Peter once again brought up an image of the Coridan system on the screen.

"Currently, the plans for the race are that it will be held at a brand-new track, tentatively named the 'Coridan National Grand Prix Raceway,' but already nicknamed 'The Smuggler's Run.'

"The race course has been established in the asteroid belt near the dilithium mines. This allows Coridan to use the already existing fuel depot and other ship support service infrastructure already available there rather than have to rebuild them near their home planetary orbit. The track already represents a substantial investment of Credits and capital. On top of what likely had to be spent lobbying for the race."

The location was actually to our advantage. We could cover both sites better that way. If the race was at the planet, we would only be able to cover one or the other. An opportunistic attacker could destroy whichever we left unprotected. We would be faced with sacrificing dilithium crystal production critical to the Federation's military readiness and economy or sacrificing a race, and thousands of attendees, which would destroy Star Fleet's and my good name.

"The ship support infrastructure is required by the Formula One Group because the race is composed of ships which will need that infrastructure to be convenient. In addition to the ships directly related to the Formula One Group, there will be a number of liners, cruise ships and vessels simply dedicated to the race that will be making excursions for their passengers. There is also likely to be a class of private vessels, generally owned by well off, but not necessarily hyper rich folks that are either STL coming from here in this system or with slow warp drives coming from nearby systems. My folks took us by our family STL boat to a race at Luna Seca when I was a child causing what many consider a lifelong affliction of being fascinated by fast spaceships.

"There will also be a class of super yachts which will generally have very expensive, faster warp drives which will come in all shapes and sizes including some ridiculously large super yachts which will also attend.

"While placing the race near existing infrastructure saves Coridan on construction costs, it means the festivities are out of transporter range of their homeworld. This compromises the goals Coridan has in this endeavor to promote their world and encourage tourism directly to the planet.

"This trade off makes sense because this Grand Prix may not be held over.

"There are some Grand Prix locations like Luna Seca Raceway at Earth's L4 and Monza above Tellar Prime that are classics and not likely to be scheduled away any time soon.

"There are also generally one or two new locations created each year. Most of those locations, like Coridan, will not get to host more than one race ever. Still, it's not a terrible investment. A good race track can be used by many different circuits and still provide value to the developer. However, minimizing the risk by minimizing cost is not a bad idea. Should F1 decide they want to come back to Coridan, which happens sometimes as a particular track and venue prove to be unusually worthy, Coridan could always move the track closer to their homeworld at a price substantially lower than the cost of a complete redevelopment.

"Also, during this race, Coridan will be operating convenient ferries that will allow someone at the race venue to proceed insystem and spend some time planetside, so Coridan will still realize some of those goals as well.

At this point I stood up and took over the briefing.

"Unfortunately, I must forbid taking such a ferry. Even if your shore leave time is long enough to cover a ferry trip, visit and return, you would still not be available for emergency recall if an incident occurred.

"We have been dispatched to this event to provide security for very real reasons. Twenty-six point seven five six years ago, a Romulan Star Empire capital ship, likely one of the most capable in their fleet, violated our treaty, crossed the neutral zone, destroyed four outposts and almost destroyed the Enterprise. Eventually that ship was stopped by the Enterprise and opted to destroy itself rather than surrender.

"While this attack constituted a major provocation. War was avoided.

"Star Fleet's best intelligence feels that these incursions represent a regular behavior for the Romulan Star Empire to so challenge their neighbors to determine if it is time for war. Twenty-five years would be an excellent interval for such a challenge, based on what we know about the Romulans, we are now overdue.

"If the Romulans are no longer using the challenge model, it is because they have become far more knowledgeable about the Federation in the last twenty-five years. As such, they will know that this race is an excellent opportunity to launch an attack that will cause the maximum amount of damage and confusion."

Of course, after their incursion, the Federation could have responded with full scale war. If the Federation had prevailed, we could have taught the Romulans a very clear lesson that this sort of behavior had serious risks and costs. If we liberated substantial territory of those who, even now, continued to suffer under Romulan oppression, we might have denied the Romulans the economic wherewithal to continue to be a threat. Of course, war is a tricky thing. We also could have lost. Enterprise's defeat of a single Romulan ship was no guarantee of a general war victory. Even under the best of circumstances, thousands, perhaps millions of lives would have been lost.

The Federation, even without a war with the Romulans, all but for the Organians, would have been at war with the Klingons within a year. Without Organian intervention, depleted by war with the Romulans and with resources still committed to that border, the Federation would have done very poorly against the Klingons. This assumes the Klingons wouldn't have been lured to war even sooner by the opportunity that the Federation, enmeshed in a war with the Romulans, would have been unprepared.

I continued my presentation. "While the Federation is larger than the Romulan Star Empire or the Klingon Empire, the Romulan Star Empire and Klingon Empire are larger than any of the four founding members of the Federation. While having an open, free society means that the Federation has a larger economy per capita and is more scientifically and technically innovative on a per capita basis, while also being larger, that is no guarantee of victory.

"Either the Romulan Star Empire or the Klingon Empire likely have far greater political cohesion and internal cooperation than the Federation. Their fleets have no false compunctions about trying to hide their military nature from themselves and have been built for war. These would be major advantages in a conflict."

One of the problems that perennially afflicted Star Fleet was a creeping pacifism where leadership, training and philosophy kept forgetting, more and more, that we needed to be a capable military organization that would defend the Federation in case of attack. Star Fleet expected her ships and crews to be diplomats, explorers and scientists. Even with the best of intentions, military drilling could suffer under such a regime. Unfortunately, sometimes intentions were not the best.

I had heard them once referred to in a guest lecture at the Academy by, now Star Fleet Chief of Staff Alexander, as the "Peace at any price, even if it means slitting our own throats party," were a Federation constituency that relentlessly protested any investment in weapons, military preparedness and even Star Fleet. Unfortunately, the core of this group seemed to be based on Vulcan in what I considered a clear perversion of the teachings of Surak.

While the Romulan Star Empire and the Klingon Empire had no such misconceptions and trained their crews relentlessly for battle.

One of the problems Star Fleet had at the beginning of the Four Years War was that we had swung too far to pander to this group. Many ships were lightly armed if armed at all. Development of arms had been neglected. Worse, many crews had NEVER drilled for combat. Even if their equipment was equal or better, untrained crews facing hard bitten, trained from birth, Klingon warriors was a prescription for disaster.

Since the Four Years War, Star Fleet still saw itself as diplomats, explorers and scientists. However, training standards now also clearly included military preparedness. Still, in the competing directives a Captain faced and the perpetual lack of time, I knew combat preparedness sometimes suffered.

While Captain Bacon on Dreadnought ran regular combat drills and I had made forging my crew into an effective fighting force a key component of our initial and ongoing training, Grissom hadn't had a single combat drill the entire time I was aboard.

I continued my briefing, "This problem is compounded by the fact that Star Fleet knows, with great certainty, that the Romulan Star Empire and the Klingon Empire are cooperating in military technology. Klingon ships, including their top of the line D-7 Battlecruiser have been seen in Romulan hands. Presumably this has improved previous Romulan weaknesses in weapons and warp drive. Romulan cloaking devices have been seen in Klingon hands, greatly improving and diversifying the Klingon threat. If anything, this alliance has grown closer as the Romulans and Klingons have cooperated on the design and deployment of a new Warbird class of ships. Recently, what may have been an improved version of a weapon first seen deployed by the Klingons, was used against a Star Fleet vessel by the Gorns.

"This sharing of weapon systems and platforms means there is no combination of horrors we could not have to face. A classic Romulan Bird of Prey with disruptors and high-performance warp drive. A D-7 with cloaking device and super plasma torpedo launcher. Or both. Or more.

"Star Fleet has never faced a broader and more dangerous set of adversaries.

"In addition, there is an endless list of very capable bad actors that would like nothing better than to provoke a conflict between the Federation and the Romulan Star Empire. As Peter explained, there will be many individual ships present which will give excellent cover for any such group.

"Lastly, there is a symbolic dimension. Coridan is where the modern Federation was born. An attack on Coridan is an attack on the very idea of the Federation making it all the more tempting now when the eyes of the galaxy or upon it.

"Still, we will be trying to provide the maximum amount of shore leave to the maximum amount of crew. I am pleased to announce that after I explained to them just how hard you work, the nice folks at Formula One Group have provided me with a stack of free passes to many of the events occurring during the race weekend which I will certainly pass on to you."

That resulted in cheering.

"In return, I need for all of you to refrain from consumption of alcohol or other activities that will result in your not being prepared, at a moment's notice, to be recalled for all hands on deck. We are trusting you. In addition, senior officers and Formula One Group security will also be keeping an eye on you. If I find too many infractions, all shore leave will simply be cancelled. Names will be named. Punishments will be dealt. I hope none of that is necessary.

"Enjoy your shore leave."

I didn't like ending my briefing that way, but I felt it was necessary. I did genuinely hope it was wrong and it would not be necessary.

At the end of the briefing, as we started heading down the hallway, Peter took me aside and said, "Did you know Ruark is piloting for Williams?"

That was very interesting.

Ruark was a member of the extended Enterprise family and one of our mutual "cousins." Ruark was, as far as I knew, Uhura's only child. When I had last seen him, Ruark had been a handsome man with dark maple colored skin, tall and lanky. He stood just over two meters. He had seemed thin, but that had concealed strong corded, very attractive, muscles.

(Authors Note: Apparently, the name "Uhura" had come from the fact that Nichelle Nichols was reading Robert Ruark's book "Uhuru" on the day she came to audition for the role on Star Trek. It seemed like nice symmetry for her child to be named Ruark.)

I knew Ruark and Peter had been very close. They both loved spaceship racing. Peter was more the engineer ship builder than racer. Ruark was more the racer than engineer ship builder. I, and others, felt they could have made a formidable team. Unfortunately, I knew they had mostly competed. Still, as long as they had a good time. Peter had joined Star Fleet. I had lost track of Ruark. Apparently, he had gone into racing. To have gotten a seat in F1 meant he must be doing very well.

"Isn't Williams the lowest rated team?" I asked.

"Yes, but for a pilot to get a seat on any team is a major accomplishment. Especially Ruark."

"Why 'especially Ruark?'" I asked wondering if there was some lingering resentment I hadn't previously detected.

"Ruark is so tall. It's a disadvantage for an F1 race craft to have to be built larger for larger pilots. Ruark is light, he's lanky, but he's tall. F1 teams don't like their pilots to be much more than one point six meters and Ruark is over two. To get a spot on a team, he has to have overcome that. It's a remarkable accomplishment."

"Does that mean he can't be successful in this type of racing?" I asked concerned.

"No, if he's good enough. Other teams will overlook his height as well. But getting the shot at all, even on Williams, must have been next to impossible. Now he has a second impossible task of doing well enough on Williams to be picked up by a better team. Of course, Ruark never seemed to lack self-confidence." Peter explained.

That was true. Ruark always seemed like he feared nothing. When we were younger, for someone like me who seemed to have insurmountable problems before her and feared everything, his confidence was very attractive.

When I was younger, I wasn't sure if I should apply to the Vulcan Science Academy, where I feared, despite my family and academic accomplishments, I would be declined. Or if I should apply to Star Fleet Academy, where, despite my family and academic accomplishments, I also feared I might be declined. Or if I should protect myself by going somewhere else. Or if I should just stay home and hide under the bed.

Ruark, who had been visiting with us on Vulcan at the time, was the one who stayed up with me all night sitting on a rock at the top of a mountain overlooking the ShiKahr plain. Eventually, we had seen the dawn together. He had said to me, each time I protested why I shouldn't apply, over the course of that night, roughly one thousand, nine hundred and seventy-four times, "Girl, either of those places would be lucky to have a hottie like you. Go to Star Fleet Academy. My Mom went there. She's awesome."

In the end, I had applied for, been accepted and went to Star Fleet Academy.

*** And now a word from our sponsor! ***

If you enjoy Star Wars and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three Star Wars novels I have written, all called Legend of the Harp also available on this site!

If you enjoy modern urban fantasy and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three novels I have written based on the Dresden Files universe of Jim Butcher, called Warlock of Omaha, Warlock of Omaha Squared and Warlock of Omaha Cubed!

This writer, like the storyteller in the market of old, now has a hat out hoping for a small gratuity. There is no obligation and I'm grateful you took a moment to read. However, if my writing has found favor in your eyes, please take a moment to go to:

Pay

Pal

.me

/hemaccabe

and throw in a little something, a dime, a quarter, a dollar, etc.

While I love to write, I do have a spouse and a child and a job and many other claims on my time that don't understand why I would spend so many hours banging on a keyboard. A small tangible return would help smooth the way to allow me to provide many more stories.

Please help. Thank-you.


	26. Chapter 26

**Star Trek Lost Destiny**

**By Hemaccabe**

**Book I: Race of Death**

**Chapter 26: Scanner Briefing**

**ALL RIGHTS RESERVED**

(Author's Note: Ticonderoga is based, very much, on the legendary Ticonderoga class Cruiser as used by the US Navy. Based on that, what class should the Ticonderoga in this story be? That's hard to say. Classes of vessel were most clearly defined by the Washington Naval Treaty after World War I, though the main difference that treaty used to determine ship class was the size of a ship's guns by diameter, which seems like an obsolete standard by the 23rd century. Tico in the story is probably larger than a Corvette, but the term Frigate, Destroyer or Light Cruiser could all be used. In the real world, the Ticonderoga class of cruisers was replaced by the Arleigh Burke class of destroyers which would have been, physically, almost as large as a Heavy Cruiser from World War II. Burkes also carry about three times the crew as Tico in this story. One could easily have made the argument now that Burkes were cruisers. None of this is set in stone in the real world, much less the Star Trek world.

Just in case anyone is not familiar with the traditional naval nomenclature, warship types are described by size with the smallest to largest being Sloop, Corvette, Frigate, Destroyer, Light Cruiser, Cruiser, Heavy Cruiser and finally Battleship. In the real world, there is no Dreadnought size beyond Battleship. Once again, the concept common in scifi fandom of a ship class size larger than Battleship called Dreadnought is all based on a typo in the Star Fleet Technical Manual. Amazing.

At this moment in the story, Ticonderoga's class has not been publicly declared because Kirk is still playing cagey with the vessel for political reasons, pretending he's only made a slightly modified Monitor Sub-class Oberth. So, officially, Tico would be whatever an Oberth is, I would assume a Sloop.)

We arrived on what would be the "Tuesday" before the race in the Coridan system. We had completed our last delivery at Outpost 2, the closest Outpost to Coridan and proceeded here. I had made Peter happy by doing the last transit leg at warp 7.

We had run at high speed because I wanted to be here before the bulk of other ships arrived.

"Begin full scan of the race and mining regions." I ordered.

It was a good order and a difficult challenge for my crew. Navigation, Helm and Comms would have to cooperate to put together, then execute a course that would allow us to scan the whole area.

I wanted to have a strong baseline of what the area looked like, before we had a huge regatta of vessels present. That would help us in many ways, like making it a lot easier to tell a space rock from a space yacht, which could be critical in a crisis.

We could also do a hard sniff to see if any cloaked vessels were lingering in the area. The AN/SPY1 scanners Ticonderoga was equipped with were the best Star Fleet had to offer. Being able to pierce, at least to some degree, Romulan cloaking devices was highly hoped for.

Once the course was laid in and set, I announced, "Junior officers to the Conference room. Mr. Winter, you have the Con."

Rachel and I left for the conference room on Deck B.

One of my responsibilities as Captain of this vessel was to help train and prepare her junior officers for greater responsibility later, which meant promotion. Training could mean many things, like encouraging them to take up many elective activities that would broaden and strengthen them, like self-defense, FPPSA, playing poker and chess, among others.

I also included them in educational briefings. I had asked Rachel to give a briefing on scanning. This was particularly important as we were at a technological juncture. AN/SPY1 was very different from previous scanning systems and was directly linked to AEGIS, which was very different from previous computer systems. A bit of training was called for. I expected some would seem basic to me from previous training at the Academy, but we did have a number of OCS officers like David. Also, it could never hurt for me have a refresher.

We all sat, and I said, "Mr. Crater, could you begin?"

Rachel got up and put up a diagram of the AN/SPY1 system on the screen.

"Thank-you Captain. We have a new scanning system and a new computer driving it with new functionality. I will begin with a review. It goes without saying, though I will say it, the contents of this briefing are top secret. Should someone be found to be discussing this system on shore leave, perhaps after a couple drinks have loosened tongues, they can expect to lose their security clearance, be drummed out of Star Fleet, and probably face some severe penal correction."

Rachel put up a picture of a ship from the late 20th century Earth.

"In ancient wet navy times, when they would use primitive 'RADAR' and "SONAR' technologies to detect enemy vessels, there were certain, basic, understood rules of the game. First of all, on the surface of an ocean, the farthest one could see would be approximately sixteen kilometers, depending on sea conditions. They could try and cheat that by building tall masts which would give a bit more range. Eventually they produced aircraft and then satellites to expand their effective range."

Here she had a picture with a boat on water, a plane and a satellite.

"However, one issue they still faced was that by going to active scan, they would be far more visible to an opposing vessel, which would then be able to see the scanning vessel first. This meant there was an advantage to using passive detection, as this meant one might detect an enemy vessel by some signal they were inadvertently bleeding into the environment without revealing one's own presence."

Here she switched to a picture with one boat marked "active" sending big curved lines at another boat marked, "passive."

"When we got to space, some of these tactics carried over, some did not, and some changed."

Here she changed to a split picture of a Star Fleet officer viewing a scan screen on a bridge and ship in space.

"In space, it's very hard to hide unless there is some natural terrain, such as an asteroid field or nebula. This means ships are more likely to go to active scanning earlier. It's also much less likely that a passive signal will be sent as space has no atmospheric medium to transmit it."

Here she first showed a ship floating in space, followed by one hiding in an asteroid field and then one in a nebula.

"Still, there are natural terrains in space and some not natural, like cloaking. That means, running with active scan, we risk being detectable to an adversary far sooner than they will be detected by us, particularly if they are cloaked, putting us at a considerable disadvantage."

Here we had an image of a Romulan Bird of Prey re-energizing her cloak.

"This is still generally acceptable, as a part of our mission is deterrence. We want to announce to potential Romulan observers, 'See, we're here. We're really not afraid of you. Try to come across the Neutral Zone and see what happens.'

"This is based strongly on the typical scanners carried by other Star Fleet vessels. Those vessels will have a pair of large, solid-state, sensor bells that can be pointed in all directions. The goal being to send a single, very powerful, beam of sensor energy lancing out and hopefully get enough return on a distant enemy to detect them, even if cloaked, to reveal their location."

Here Rachel had a funny image of a Star Fleet vessel shooting a very strong beam at a comic Romulan vessel that was rubbing it's backside from being hit with a strong scan beam.

"There is a bit of protocol that one doesn't want to scan a non-adversary too harshly as that may appear hostile. One wouldn't want to offend an allied Federation member with a harsh scan, it's been done, or give an adversary an excuse. So, modulating one's scan in a non-combat situation can be very important."

Here she showed a picture of a random alien shaking it's fist after having been zapped by a harshly intense scan. Clearly, it's hair-like feature having been curled by the harsh scan.

"AN/SPY 1 changes all that. Rather than have a single bell, we have six different locations with sensors. We have one at the top of the primary hull and one at the bottom, like a conventional Star Fleet vessel. However, AN/SPY 1 also has four more sensor locations, one starboard and one to port on the superstructure, and one on the outside rear of each nacelle."

Here Rachel had a ship's diagram and flashed arrows at each set of scan module locations.

"Each one of these scan locations has thousands of small scan emitters. This new system gives a wide variety of new options. First of all, they can be run, as we have been, as a single large beam. As a single large beam, it is far more powerful than any standard scanning bell on any other Federation starship. It is hoped that this intense beam will be able to generate return even on a cloaked vessel. That has not yet been proven as we are yet to detect a cloaked ship. However, it still aids our mission of deterrence.

"If a cloaked Romulan vessel was hiding in the Neutral Zone or the other side of the Neutral Zone, all they would see on their long-range scan would be a point, our ship, emitting a very large scan beam.

"As scan beam size generally correlates to ship size and other capabilities, we appear to be a much larger, more capable ship than we actually are. No doubt this deters enemy ships that might be considering an incursion and creates the impression that Star Fleet may have some sort of super Excelsior class ship already deployed.

"For the Federation's adversaries to be confused about what capabilities Star Fleet has is a major advantage for Star Fleet and a worthwhile goal in and of itself.

"However, the single beam is only the most basic use of this system.

"The many emitters can be used in a number of frequencies depending on the situation. Most valuably, they can give us a much higher resolution image, much further away, in four dimensions."

Here she put a diagram of a Ticonderoga look-alike vessel emitting a scan cloud.

"As I said earlier, we can modulate the scan frequencies to optimize for different circumstances. For example, if we were operating in a nebula, traditionally a very difficult place to get good scan return, we could optimize to a nebula friendly frequency.

"Then the system has an amazing special final trick. We can modulate the frequency to be very close to various background radiations. Since every individual emitter is small, and then close to background, our scan energy becomes much harder for an adversary to detect. Allowing us to do much more thorough scans against suspect vessels as well as make it more difficult for an adversary to detect us through our scan.

"This system also has an economic advantage. Many small emitters are substantially less expensive and less vulnerable than a single large emitter. The large sensor bells used in Excelsior and Constitution refits are very, very expensive."

Here she paused and picked up a rod-shaped device, perhaps two centimeters in diameter and two tenths of a meter long.

"This is one of the same sort of sensors our AN/SPY1 is equipped with. Even in the thousands, they are less expensive than one of those big sensor bells. Further, if a conventional single sensor bell is damaged, it's done and has to be replaced. If one of our modules is taken out, the other five will still function and we won't be blind. Even if a module is damaged, any sensor elements within that are still functional will still be able to scan.

"The disadvantage of this system is that it takes a much more powerful computer than has ever been deployed before to operate."

Rachel now put up a picture of the AEGIS computer.

"That system is AEGIS. AEGIS also gives us one more dimension of advantage.

"Traditionally, scan would be reviewed, with computer tools, by one or more officers looking for the anomalies which would help us detect whatever we were looking for, including sneaky enemy ships.

"AEGIS brings it's next generation artificial intelligence to the game allowing us to scan and correlate scans from different time periods far more thoroughly. We still need dedicated, trained, observant crew to review scan. However, now they have AEGIS helping.

"I will conclude by pointing out that, while we seem to have an amazing new tool available to us, it is still very much in the test period. It has yet to be proven by detecting any enemy ship, particularly a cloaked ship. The tactics that will allow a Captain to get the most advantage from this system are also being developed right now.

"You now all have an assignment to prepare papers on new tactics for how this system could be used. This is not make work. When a system that changes the rules of the game as much as this one does comes along, it often takes years for the complimentary tactics to be developed. More smart minds, or even yours, may come up with something inspired. That inspired tactic could earn someone a Grankite Order or save your life. Work on it. Dismissed."

This lecture would be put up on ship's systems so anyone aboard, including enlisted could watch it too at their leisure. One thing Star Fleet always hoped for was gifted enlisteds deciding to extend their enlistment and going to OCS. While I was partial to the Academy, some of Star Fleet's best officers came from OCS. Skilled crew was also a scarce resource, the more Star Fleet could conserve, the better off we would be.

*** And now a word from our sponsor! ***

If you enjoy Star Wars and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three Star Wars novels I have written, all called Legend of the Harp also available on this site!

If you enjoy modern urban fantasy and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three novels I have written based on the Dresden Files universe of Jim Butcher, called Warlock of Omaha, Warlock of Omaha Squared and Warlock of Omaha Cubed!

This writer, like the storyteller in the market of old, now has a hat out hoping for a small gratuity. There is no obligation and I'm grateful you took a moment to read. However, if my writing has found favor in your eyes, please take a moment to go to:

Pay

Pal

.me

/hemaccabe

and throw in a little something, a dime, a quarter, a dollar, etc.

While I love to write, I do have a spouse and a child and a job and many other claims on my time that don't understand why I would spend so many hours banging on a keyboard. A small tangible return would help smooth the way to allow me to provide many more stories.

Please help. Thank-you.


	27. Chapter 27

**Star Trek Lost Destiny**

**By Hemaccabe**

**Book I: Race of Death**

**Chapter 27: Local Friends**

**ALL RIGHTS RESERVED**

(Author's Note: FTL and Star Trek Tech. Treknology is the sort of thing that can be argued until the heads of all involved explode. I'm not arguing. I'm setting rules for my alternate reality/timeline. If you have good suggestions that you can send politely, I'd love to hear them. You may be rewarded by seeing them used in re-works or new material.

In Star Trek, by the time of the Original Series, it seems that ships can maneuver and fight at warp, which is to say, FTL speeds. That means there is a suite of complementary technologies that allow for other systems to function at FTL speeds must also exist.

The first and most obvious is something called subspace radio which would allow for transmission of at least voice at FTL speeds. In the show, subspace seems to be there only to show how completely on their own Enterprise is in dealing with their circumstances, but it's definitely depicted as FTL. In STII: TWOK, it seems there is the possibility of video communication by subspace.

There are also phasers and photon torpedoes. Phasers are not lasers. They seem to be some sort of FTL beam weapon. Why a hand weapon would need to be FTL is hard to understand. Further, even if only firing at speed of light, like a laser would be, how even a Scalosian could step out of the way of a beam is a great mystery (Yeah, I'm criticizing "Blink of an Eye"). Phasers can be improved in many ways. They can fire beams that travel faster, just as ships traveling at warp speed can travel faster. The faster the beam travels, the greater it's effective range as targets would have a harder time getting out of the way. Phasers are known to generate a great deal of waste heat which limits their firing rate and requires extensive cooling mechanisms. Improving cooling could increase rate and duration of fire. Improving phaser efficiency would mean converting more energy to phaser beam rather than heat, which helps both ways. Better fire control could allow for greater accuracy. Better focusing could allow the beam to extend further before it dissipates. Of course, increasing intensity, ie making the phaser larger and being able to dump more energy into it, always increases punch.

Photon torpedoes are like mini-ships. As such, they can be improved in almost every way a ship can be. A pho/torp is an anti-matter warhead that is carried to target by a small, short range, warp engine. It has sensors for terminal guidance and a computer brain to read the sensors and steer the torpedo in. I like to think they glow red because the magnetic bottle holding the anti-matter is leaking and the miniscule amounts of matter in space are reacting with it. The anti-matter warhead also fuels the torpedo engine so the farther the pho/torp must go to hit it's target, the weaker it becomes. As such, a pho/torp can be improved by having a bigger warhead/magnetic bottle holding more anti-matter, a better engine, better sensors and/or better brain. There is a danger to handling pho/torps as it requires controlling a fluidic anti-matter and everything that can go wrong with that. That's why big ships have big crews handling the torpedoes and Saavik is concerned about the magazine arrangement on Tico.

Lastly, there are sensors that can clearly see at FTL speeds as well. Mr. Crater has just given us an extended discussion of those. However, better sensors could see at faster speeds, more distantly, have more energy for return or resolve better resolution images.)

When we had done our scans upon arrival at Coridan, we had started with the single maximum power beam in the hopes that we might reveal a cloaked vessel in hiding. If there was one present, it eluded us.

We then used the cloud function to spread sensor energy at conventional frequencies over a broad area and take some remarkably high-resolution images, particularly of the dilithium mining and race areas.

Then we got sneaky and shifted frequency. We moved most of our emitters to near background frequencies so they would be hard to detect. We did leave just enough in more conventional frequencies so we would appear to have a conventional sensor bell.

Then the first of the race teams showed up, Cavallo Volante, followed by Macallan and then Toro d'Oro. I didn't know a great deal about F1 racing, but I liked the Cavallo Volante team logo of a flying horse. I always thought Star Fleet Starships were evocative of flying horses, particularly the Constitution refits.

As the team ships arrived, they all clearly had two sides designed to dock together, which they did. As they docked, it created a unified preassurized causeway on the front of the vessels as well.

Williams arrived last and docked at the end. They had just finished docking when the Main Grandstand arrived and docked, creating a giant floating right angle.

By the time the Main Grandstand arrived, other ships of the hanger on regatta were arriving as well.

Every few minutes, the junior officer on Comms, Ensign Zooey, would announce, "Such and such vessel arriving from warp."

I was finding the updates as different vessels arrived, whose names I wasn't terribly familiar with, a bit tedious so I was pleased to hear, "We are being hailed by Federation Security Coordinator Beattie from Coridan."

I quickly replied, "I'll take it in my office."

I retired to my office and brought up my monitor.

A pleasant round face came up, "Hello, I'm Security Coordinator Beattie, is this the captain?"

I had already confirmed Mr. Beattie's identity and his transmission had the proper code key.

"Yes," I replied, "I am Captain Saavik."

I felt a bit awkward identifying myself as "Captain," since my rank was only Commander. Still, I was Captain of this vessel and it wouldn't hurt if others treated me with the greater respect that might be accorded a full Captain.

"That's wonderful. I have been very concerned that we were about to have this major event with no additional security resources. Back in the day, just after Coridan was accepted into the Federation, we needed at least two serious Starships present to make sure the Orions and others got the message clearly that raiding was no longer acceptable. There were some pretty hot exchanges.

"Careful responsible mining means we pull out each crystal carefully and maximize total yield. It's slow and expensive. Raiders were used to coming in, blasting apart dilithium containing asteroids with ship's weapons then grabbing whatever they could and running.

"That kind of mining destroys eighty percent or more of the dilithium in the rock.

"Luckily, after a while, things cooled down. Unfortunately, once things cooled down, Star Fleet pulled the ships providing security. We're still a very tempting target and very close to the border. Luckily, the worst hasn't happened.

He paused from his lecture, so I asked, "Is there anything you want to ask of us?"

I was thinking Coridan would be an excellent place for a new Defense Outpost.

He shook his head quickly and said, "Oh, no, no. I'm sure you will take all prudent actions to protect the race event and dilithium mines as much as possible. I wouldn't want to tell you your job. I just wanted to introduce myself. If you need access to coordinate with someone down here on Coridan, I just wanted to let you know who that was."

I nodded and replied, "That's very courteous of you. Thank-you."

He smiled and said, "Enjoy the race!"

Then he logged off.

I actually knew the history. The Kumari, an Andorian crewed Ares class had fought it out with three Orion pirates at one point, destroying one, crippling and capturing the second and severely damaging the third which limped home. That was the moment that broke the raider's back. The new Federation explained to the Orion Syndicate that continued raiding on a Federation member would mean war. The Orions backed down. The other raiders, like the Tellarites and Romulans, seeing what happened to the Orions, backed down as well.

Wednesday became Thursday.

Crew started to beam down for shore leave. Those that had shore leave when various events were taking place which I had passes for, got the passes. If more were taking shore leave then there were passes, we asked if anyone didn't want them. If more wanted than we had, there would be an immediate drawing.

The space around the race grounds continued to fill. The ferries started to run from Coridan back and forth to the Main Grandstand. I noticed the main grandstand actually had three "pit row" causeways made of the race team ships from the F1 race, the F2 and the GP3.

I had never seen space more filled with ships. Mr. Crater and Mr. Zooey both had to keep sending warning messages for ships which had approached too close to Ticonderoga as they jockeyed for viewing position.

Rachel announced to me, "A ship owner whose vessel is too close to ours refuses to move and demands to speak to our Captain."

I looked at Rachel and asked, "Do you want to handle it, or would you prefer I get involved?"

"I can handle it, but I think they'll listen to you easier." She replied.

"Put it on main screen." I replied.

An older human woman appeared on the screen. She asked, in a haughty tone looking down her nose at me, "Are you, the Captain of that ship?"

She had drug out the "you" in a very disdainful way.

"Yes I am." I replied professionally.

"I refuse to move. This is the best spot still open. I think there is plenty of room."

"You are too close to a Star Fleet vessel. You have been lawfully ordered to move off. Should you fail to do so, you and the ship's master may face criminal charges." I replied sternly. We needed space for a number of reasons, not least so that our sensors wouldn't be obscured. Without sensors functioning properly, we might not notice if the race was attacked.

She drew herself up to her full dignity and threatened, "I have a lot of friends on the Federation Council and in Star Fleet Command. You might find it's better for your career to be a bit more accommodating."

"You need to move your ship promptly or I will take action." I replied.

"I refuse!" She announced and disconnected us.

"Mr. Crater, what sort of ship is that?" I asked.

Rachel replied promptly, "It's a one hundred fifty-meter luxury yacht with a warp 5 engine."

"Sounds very prosperous." I replied.

"Yes Sir." She replied.

"Mr. Winter, attach a tractor beam to that vessel and move her," I said getting up so I could lean over his shoulder and look at his display.

I found a large empty space nearby and realized it was the area behind the Main Grandstand, where viewing, presumably, would be at it's worst.

"Here." I said indicating the area behind the Main Grandstand.

"Aye Aye, Sir" James replied with satisfaction.

James proved very effective placing the tractor beam and began moving their vessel.

Rachel announced, "They're hailing us."

"On screen" I replied.

The woman popped up on the screen. It seemed the tractor beam was shaking their civilian grade vessel a bit. She seemed in distress.

"What are you doing? I demand you stop immediately!" She screeched.

"You refused to move, so we're moving you. The next infraction, we will seize your vessel and turn you over to civilian authorities. Ticonderoga out." I ended the conversation with an armrest button.

It only took a moment more for James to report. "Ship is positioned as ordered."

"Remove tractor beam." I ordered.

"Removed." James confirmed.

Rachel announced, "Ship is moving off slowly."

"Mr. Crater, set an automated announcement. Play every twenty minutes. Inform all ships the distance they must keep." I ordered.

It took Rachel about twenty seconds to complete and reply, "Done as ordered."

"Thank-you." I replied.

We still had trouble, but nothing as bad as what we had. I think it got around quickly that we had been prepared to use a tractor beam. No one else wanted to find out what that did to their ship.

Later, I got a message from Peter asking me to meet him in the Officer's Mess to talk.

I was ready to go to dinner anyway, so I got up and gave Ensign Zooey the Con.

It was a short walk and I found Peter. He had a coffee. I ordered some Darjeeling tea and joined him.

"So how go things?" I asked.

Peter had taken shore leave today.

Peter seemed concerned. "I took the pass I got to walk pit row for presentations."

I interrupted, "Did you enjoy yourself?"

I expected for a speed freak like Peter, pit row at an F1 Grand Prix must be heaven. We were going through a lot of trouble to be here, mostly because I wanted the crew to be happy. I was really expecting Peter to be happy. I had been looking forward to basking in his happiness.

Instead he seemed upset. "I found something out."

"What?" I asked a bit disappointed by his unhappy tone.

"I went to visit Ruark. Williams is probably the least busy of all the pit row areas. I found him really quick. That was great. We hugged. I gave him a hard time for not being in Star Fleet. He gave me a hard time for not being in F1. It was great." Peter explained then paused.

"So, good?" I asked, still not seeing it.

Peter continued, "Since they weren't busy, Ruark offered to give me a tour of his racer. It's very cool and very fast."

Peter's tone which seemed unhappy did not correspond to what he was telling me. I raised an eyebrow.

Peter continued. "I noticed something. Most people would have missed it. His ship doesn't have an auto-beam out."

"What does that do?" I asked.

Peter explained, "These F1 racers have two major safety systems. They have repressor fields which push things away from the ship and push the ships away from things. It's not foolproof, collisions, particularly low relative speed collisions, still happen. Still, it's a major way deadly accidents are prevented."

"Sounds like a good idea." I replied politely.

Peter continued, "The second major system they have is an auto-beam out. If the ship becomes badly compromised, the pilot is beamed out automatically to safety."

"Why doesn't Ruark have this system?" I asked, the value of such a system clear to me.

Peter answered, "I asked the same thing. Apparently, to make room in his racer to accept his taller stature, Williams insisted on the compromise."

It went without saying that a transporter was still considered an extremely expensive bit of equipment. No doubt Williams enjoyed not paying for it.

"And Ruark accepted this?" I asked.

"He says he still has a manual beam out. That's enough to satisfy the rules." Peter answered.

"Well, won't that do the same thing?" I asked.

"In theory, maybe. Remember, these ships are going really fast. They can become atoms before the best reflexes can hit a manual beam out. Also, racers tend to be very…self-confident. They'll refuse to beam out until too late because they'll refuse to believe they can't hold the ship together." Peter explained.

"Is Ruark's the only ship like that?" I asked.

"Yes, I may have exceeded my authority and claimed I had the right to inspect each racer. Every one of the other nineteen has that capability." Peter explained.

"Your course has my full support." I replied and Peter grinned sardonically.

Then I said, "I can't make this an order. However, I would appreciate if you would make the sacrifice of watching the race from our transporter room. If you see Ruark's ship is having difficulty, beam him out. I will back your judgement."

Peter nodded, "Actually I was going to make that request. Thank-you."

I knew Ruark. His ship could already be atoms and he would still be protesting that he could hold it together. He was probably happy to save the weight an auto-beam out would require. Ruark's confidence was a beautiful thing, but he could really benefit from something like the Kobayashi Maru test. I just didn't want him to meet it here in the real world.

"We can't protect Ruark in every race, but here, at this one, we can, so we will. After this we will contact Commander Uhura and explain it to her. She may have the ability to convince Ruark to do something different." I said.

"Sounds like a plan." Peter replied.

*** And now a word from our sponsor! ***

If you enjoy Star Wars and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three Star Wars novels I have written, all called Legend of the Harp also available on this site!

If you enjoy modern urban fantasy and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three novels I have written based on the Dresden Files universe of Jim Butcher, called Warlock of Omaha, Warlock of Omaha Squared and Warlock of Omaha Cubed!

This writer, like the storyteller in the market of old, now has a hat out hoping for a small gratuity. There is no obligation and I'm grateful you took a moment to read. However, if my writing has found favor in your eyes, please take a moment to go to:

Pay

Pal

.me

/hemaccabe

and throw in a little something, a dime, a quarter, a dollar, etc.

While I love to write, I do have a spouse and a child and a job and many other claims on my time that don't understand why I would spend so many hours banging on a keyboard. A small tangible return would help smooth the way to allow me to provide many more stories.

Please help. Thank-you.


	28. Chapter 28

**Star Trek Lost Destiny**

**By Hemaccabe**

**Book I: Race of Death**

**Chapter 28: Family Dinner**

**ALL RIGHTS RESERVED**

Thursday bled over to Friday.

I tried to stay on the Bridge as much as possible. Every minute I could stand post was time some other crewman could be taking once in a lifetime shore leave. It didn't hurt that I wasn't very interested in F1 racing. F1's pageantry had a certain appeal. The technology and personal relationships of the teams were somewhat interesting. Still, if I wasn't here, I would probably never seek out one of these races to watch. I would never watch a broadcast. It wasn't a great sacrifice.

Friday had the first ever practice sessions for the Coridan racetrack. I had Mr. Zooey put them up on the Bridge's main screen.

The announcers explained that the track's nickname, "Smuggler's Run," was based on the race course having been laid out in a path similar to the way a raider would have had to move through the asteroid field back in the days of frequent raiding.

I found the runs more interesting than I expected. While my specialty before I was promoted was Navigation, I was a competent Helmsman. I could appreciate what it would take to pilot through the course, especially at the speeds they were achieving. I was impressed. Particularly what it took to hit some of those curves was simply amazing. I watched Williams the closest for obvious reasons.

Then it was our turn.

I had agreed with Mr. Galoorb that we would put on a bit of a show. I had kept Peter and James on board for this moment.

I could hear the announcer speak, "Now, Star Fleet's newest ship, the Ticonderoga, will show us what she can do with the course!"

I piped down to Peter, "Mr. Preston, are we ready?"

Peter replied quite confidently, "I was born ready!"

I snapped off the intership and activated shipwide, "All hands, prepare for high G maneuver training."

We had warned all hands already that this moment was coming. I deactivated shipwide.

I said to James sitting before me on the left, "Mr. Winter are we ready?"

"Ready Captain," He replied, his voice filled with determination.

"Proceed." I ordered.

At Mr. Winter's piloting, Ticonderoga leapt into the course. I have to admit; I was surprised at just what she could do. She could make turns that would put a larger Constitution or Excelsior to shame. We had made some hard maneuvers on Eris, but nothing like this. Certainly we had done nothing requiring constant hard maneuver for this extended period of time. We got slung back and forth hard. I was glad I was in my seat.

On the last tricky set of curves, I felt James lose it just a bit and the ship slid. At most, it cost us a few seconds on our lap time. I wondered if I should have let AEGIS do the piloting?

It took us two minutes thirty-seven seconds to complete our lap. In practice, the F1 race craft were hitting two minutes and fifteen to twenty seconds. They were small, STL ships, built with the best technology in the Federation for this task and with the best pilots money could buy. I felt our time was quite respectable.

Ticonderoga resumed her guard position.

I piped all ship, "Well done crew. We made an excellent time."

I opened the comm down to Engineering and could hear them whooping and cheering. It did a Captain's heart good. I closed the comm so they could have their moment.

Still, Friday evening found me sitting in my chair on the Bridge when once again, Kiki and Rachel showed up.

Rachel announced, "We have come to kidnap you again. It's not fair that everyone else gets to enjoy shore leave and you don't. In case that's not enough. We've set up a meeting with Ruark. We're all to have dinner together at a restaurant on the Main Grandstand that I took four passes from your pile for. If you…"

I interrupted Rachel as I stood up and said, "You had me at Ruark. Let's go."

Then I looked around the Bridge. Pickings were slim. "Mr. Kyle, you have the Con."

I didn't want to be away long. It was one thing if I was on the Bridge with a thin crew and something happened. If Mr. Kyle was at the Con with a very thin crew. It would be bad.

Still, I balanced my duty and the possibility of some sort of incursion and decided it seemed very unlikely. I would also be only a very short communicator call away. I decided the value of keeping up this part of the crew's morale was more important.

So, in our formal uniforms, we walked down to the transporter room and beamed over to the Main Grandstand.

We arrived on the Main Grandstand's target transporter reception area and walked off to clear the space for the next arrivals.

The Main Grandstand was a great pleasure boat in space. The point of the Main Grandstand was to monetize, as much as possible, the F1 Grand Prix. There were all sorts of different ways one could watch the race, including huge glassed in areas with chairs facing the race course. There were many bars and food venues with screens. There were many shops to buy various sorts of F1 racing paraphernalia. There were also all sorts of other attractions, hotels, gambling and a host of ways to spend money.

Also, somewhere aboard, were the offices for race officials.

Rachel and Kiki, who had already been over, dragged me along to one of the formal restaurant venues. I knew the top restaurant aboard the Main Grandstand was a very fancy spot with a Michelin Star. The one we were going to wasn't that, but it was a nice place.

We arrived at the hostess station and checked in. Perhaps because they saw our uniforms, or they were efficient, they were able to seat us quickly at a secluded horseshoe booth.

Ruark was supposed to meet us at eight. At eight thirty, we decided to order appetizers. We sat there, hungry, eating greasy fried things waiting. Ruark finally showed up at nine thirty.

Rachel looked up and said, "Finally!"

Ruark smiled sheepishly. Still, he looked handsome in his Williams Race jacket, black with royal blue piping. "Sorry, there was more to go over with the Team Engineers after the practice runs today than I expected. Also, I'm the junior driver, so I have to wait until they're done with the senior driver before they'll even begin talking to me. This is a new track, so it all took longer than normal. There are a million adjustments that can be made to try to get that last micro-second of advantage, and a team like Williams that is already so far behind the eight ball, has to try and get every one of them."

"Well sit down already. We're hungry already!" Kiki announced.

However, rather than letting him sit down, we all got up and exchanged long hugs.

We eventually all sat and ordered. I ordered something called a "rib steak," which was as close this restaurant apparently got to prime rib. Kiki got a salad. Rachel got chicken something. Ruark ordered tacos, whatever that was.

The food came and Ruark looked at me, "A steak, for real girl? Well look at you."

I hadn't really started eating meat until after Enterprise, so Ruark had never seen me do it.

I looked at him and smiled, "I'm expanding my horizons."

That made him laugh.

Ruark had always been on me to engage in bad behavior to "Expand my horizons."

Rachel asked him, "So it's really important to try and do better?"

Ruark groaned. "Williams is perpetually in the basement because they don't have the budget to invest in the best gear and best people. They can't get more money unless they get more sponsors. They can't get more sponsors unless they figure out how to win. It's a vicious circle. Tomorrow is qualifying. Williams traditionally qualifies in nineteenth and twentieth place, with the Williams junior driver in twentieth. That's twentieth place out of twenty. If you qualify that low, the chances of getting up past tenth place are bad. Not past tenth place, no points and points are the object of the game.

"If I could just manage to qualify say, seventeenth or eighteenth, that would be huge. It would give our team a fighting shot. I might look good enough to get looked at by a better team or get our team so new sponsors."

"I know a team that would always have you." I said suggestively.

"Yeah and look how you all turned out. I'm eating with two Lieutenant Commanders and, look at you girl, a full Commander. Can't be many Commanders younger than you!"

I struggled to maintain my humble Vulcan demeanor and not smile. It was hard around Ruark.

So, I was a little reluctant to mention, but I did, "I understand you don't have an auto-beam out?"

"Oh man, Peter was giving me a ration about that already yesterday. There is only so much space in the boat. If they have me, there's no room for an auto. I DO have the manual. That's within safety codes. Case closed." Ruark said with some exasperation.

I let it drop. I could tell I wouldn't make any more progress on it here tonight.

Then, to change the subject, I said, "Tacos, is that some sort of exotic food you discovered at an F1 race stop?"

That made them all laugh. Ruark said, "Tacos! Girl!"

Then nothing could satisfy but me taking a bite of one of Ruark's tacos while he held it. It was good in a crunchy, meaty, spicy way. The vegetables gave a cool wet counterpoint of flavor. They must be some sort of fancy restaurant food.

Then Ruark immediately took the taco back and took a bite right where I had. Then went "Woo ooo, Taco kiss! With a Commander!"

To which Kiki and Rachel had to make a fuss as well. I hoped I didn't turn too green. I fought not giggling and smiling. That just made everyone happier.

We had a lovely dinner, but it ended all too quickly. Ruark couldn't stay out too late. He needed a good night's sleep for qualifying. I was deeply concerned something would happen with me off the ship. We paid for the dinner with the passes.

We walked Ruark back to the Williams race ship. He gave us a quick tour of his really cool race craft.

I asked, "Perhaps after qualifying tomorrow night, you can come over and we can give you a tour of Ticonderoga?"

He replied sadly, "I'm afraid not. Peter already asked me. Said his racer was cooler than mine. Unfortunately, tomorrow I have to do my duty as a driver and meet with sponsors. And, oh yeah, don't forget to root for Williams."

I said, ever so sternly, "Star Fleet can have no favorites."

Rachel smiled and said, "Don't worry, you have your own built in rooting section."

Then we all got a last hug and headed back to Ticonderoga.

We beamed back over. I'm pretty sure Kiki and Rachel headed back to their quarters. I went up to the Bridge and finished a very boring shift.

I reviewed with Ensign Kyle. Nothing exciting had happened in our absence. I hoped I wasn't depending too much on AEGIS for scanning.

*** And now a word from our sponsor! ***

If you enjoy Star Wars and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three Star Wars novels I have written, all called Legend of the Harp also available on this site!

If you enjoy modern urban fantasy and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three novels I have written based on the Dresden Files universe of Jim Butcher, called Warlock of Omaha, Warlock of Omaha Squared and Warlock of Omaha Cubed!

This writer, like the storyteller in the market of old, now has a hat out hoping for a small gratuity. There is no obligation and I'm grateful you took a moment to read. However, if my writing has found favor in your eyes, please take a moment to go to:

Pay

Pal

.me

/hemaccabe

and throw in a little something, a dime, a quarter, a dollar, etc.

While I love to write, I do have a spouse and a child and a job and many other claims on my time that don't understand why I would spend so many hours banging on a keyboard. A small tangible return would help smooth the way to allow me to provide many more stories.

Please help. Thank-you.


	29. Chapter 29

**Star Trek Lost Destiny**

**By Hemaccabe**

**Book I: Race of Death**

**Chapter 29: A Night at the Ball**

**ALL RIGHTS RESERVED**

(Author's Note: I tend to rely on the Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan novelization a great deal. The novelization introduces the idea of Saavik as a half Romulan. It introduces the idea of Romulan rape/breeding with Vulcans which is very consistent with the Romulan's Romanesque style. It also introduces the idea of Saavik deciding to spread her wings a bit at the end of the Khan incident and indulging herself in a rare steak. Certainly, this is all canon to Lost Destiny.)

Friday bled over to Saturday.

At the end of my assigned shift, I got a few hours of sleep, refreshed my uniform, took a shower and had a bite to eat. Then, after primping, went up to the Bridge in time to relieve Mr. Winter so he could have a taste of shore leave.

We put the qualifying heats on the main screen. We also had the F2 race. The race was more intense than I expected. It didn't convert me into being a race fan, and there were parts I found a bit boring, but I could see why people found it entertaining.

I was also aware there was a full pit row of F2 and GP3 teams and fans filling local space.

Ruark qualified in eighteenth place. I smiled, hoping that meant he was on his way up.

The turns Ruark had to execute to manage his time were like nothing I had ever seen before. I was truly impressed. I also worried, because I knew he was taking some big risks and he didn't have the auto-beam out.

During the early afternoon, I got an actual antique paper invitation. It wasn't teleported over. It was delivered by lighter.

On the Saturday night of each F1 race weekend, there is a formal ball held at the Main Grandstand. It's a major event for the galactic one percent to hob nob, meet, greet and rub shoulders. I hadn't expected to be invited. It also wasn't a shock. I assumed I had received the invitation as a courtesy since I was the ranking Star Fleet officer present. I wasn't sure I should go.

I met with Rachel and Kiki for lunch. I showed them the invitation.

"Oh my!" Kiki said.

"That will be interesting." Rachel said.

"I wasn't even sure I would go." I said.

"If you don't want to go, I'll take it. Maybe I'll get to kiss the Prince!" Kiki announced.

Rachel looked at Kiki, "Which Prince?"

"I'm not picky. I'll kiss any of them." Kiki replied.

Rachel rolled her eyes, then said to me "Still, you have to go."

"Why do I have to go?" I asked.

Rachel explained, "They made a big deal of inviting you. You have to represent Star Fleet."

I leaned back, "That does not sound appealing."

Rachel laughed, "Probably won't be. Just go. Eat some hors d'oeuvres. Leave early. You have to do your duty."

I wasn't looking forward to it. I wasn't the sort of girl who got raised dreaming of going to the ball to meet the Prince. To me, it was just another no-win scenario. If I went, and everything went perfect, I gained nothing but lost nothing. If something went wrong, it cost. Still, it was one of those responsibilities of command. I had dodged standing in the cold on Cestus III. Now the bill was due. I would have to go to the ball.

"Great. Mr. Crater your shore leave tonight is cancelled. You will have the Con." I announced.

Rachel sighed, but said "Aye Aye Sir," with understanding.

I wasn't assigning Rachel to the shift out of some sort of revenge. I had regretted my decision from the previous night. I didn't want someone who wouldn't be ready to be in command if something happened. That meant Rachel had to be here when I wasn't.

I went back to my quarters. I took my dress uniform out and ran it through the refresher. Essentially, the dress uniform was the same as the formal uniform, but instead of the tunic jacket, it had a long tunic coat. There was an alternate female dress uniform that was a long gown. I had the same internal discussion I always do when I looked at the coat. Perhaps, someday, I would try the gown. However, today was not that day. I got some sleep. Then woke up, ate something and took a shower. After that, Kiki came over and helped me get dressed. Rachel was busy actually commanding the ship. I could have gotten dressed on my own, but it was more fun, and a social event, doing it with Kiki. She did my fingernails and toenails.

"Why do I need to do my toenails? My feet will be in boots." I asked surprised.

"It will make you feel pretty all over and what if those boots come off somewhere?" Kiki answered.

"I find it highly unlikely my boots will come off anywhere but my quarters." I replied with just a bit of gruffness.

"If you want to bring him back here, that's your business." Kiki answered matter of factly, totally missing the point of my comment on purpose.

Still, I wondered what David would think when he saw my painted toes during a workout?

Kiki did help me put my hair up in a way that was much more elegant than I would have managed on my own. She also had a pair of diamond earrings that could be attached without holes. She made sure all my medals and decorations were applied perfectly, particularly my Grankite Order.

When Kiki was done with me, I did feel more elegant and ready. Kiki walked me over to the transporter and beamed me over.

Once I was at the Main Grandstand, I walked myself over to their main ballroom where the event would be held. I presented my invitation. Then a steward started leading me across the ballroom.

As we walked, I ran into someone I totally hadn't expected.

"Well Good Evening Mr. Winter. I am surprised to see you here." I managed stopping and annoying the steward who had no choice but to also stop and wait on me.

There was James, looking quite dashing in his dress uniform, with an attractive young woman wearing what, to my limited knowledge of such things, was quite the expensive and stylish gown.

James replied, "I hadn't intended to come. However, I was sent an invitation and I did get assigned shore leave. My parents were aware Daphne was here, would be at the ball and could use an escort."

Then, perhaps realizing he had made an omission in his manners, James turned to his companion and added, "Oh, allow me to introduce my Captain, Saavik," then he turned back to me, "and this is Daphne Carmichael. Her family is prominent on the South East continent of Terra Nova, our mutual homeworld."

At that moment, several things clicked that hadn't before. I knew that James came from Terra Nova, Earth's first off world colony set up beyond her home system. I knew that there had been some trouble with the colony because it had been struck by a radioactive asteroid on the largest, North continent where the original colony was placed.

The main colony had to be moved to one of the two, smaller southern continents.

Still Terra Nova had prospered, grown and was now one of Earth's largest colonies. Real estate there was very valuable. A Winter Industries had moved back to the largely uninhabited North continent and begun to clean up the radiation and re-open the continent for colonization. Becoming fantastically wealthy in the process.

Obviously, James was a scion of Winter Industries. Perhaps I should have let him kiss me more, I would have had a fallback position if this whole Star Fleet thing didn't work out. I didn't know any Carmichaels and southern continents, but I suspected she was the scion of another wealthy Terra Nova family, and it would be to the advantage of a lot of wealthy, prominent and powerful people if things worked out between the two. It couldn't hurt Ticonderoga to have more friends in high places. I didn't begrudge James having a date. Becky had died over five years past. James deserved to have a life.

Still I spoke only as a Captain and a friend when I said, "Ms. Carmichael, you should know you have one of the most gallant officers in Star Fleet as your companion tonight. I hope you two have a lovely evening." I replied and kept going.

The steward, who had been waiting, then walked me over to a seat at one of the many round tables.

I sat and discovered I would be presented with a full dinner. So, I ate another prime rib. Then I sat, pleased. I had thought I would have to stand. No one else was bothering to sit, they were all up mingling and dancing. So, I could sit alone, not do anything to embarrass myself and wonder how long I needed to stay before I could discreetly get up and leave. I had even been fed another nice dinner which was good.

Then a small Vulcan woman walked up dressed in a very non-Vulcan way. She was wearing an off the shoulder dress criss-crossed in pointy white and black stripes. It was almost aggressive.

She then did something else that was very un-Vulcan, she sat down next to me and smiled.

I looked at her and said, "You are a Romulan."

She smiled more and replied in Romulan, "Very perceptive."

"Is your ship nearby? Do you intend to attack?" I asked, switching to Romulan.

The only reason I could imagine a Romulan nearby was as part of some attack scheme.

"My ship is nearby, it's a yacht. I assure you, it's all quite legal. I'm here as part of a diplomatic overture." she explained.

Then she looked at my finished, but still present, dinner plate that still had evidence of the steak that had come on it. After her appraisal of my dinner dishes she said, "And I see that you are not a typical Vulcan."

I wasn't derailed by the steak comment. I replied suspiciously. "I was not aware of any ships being allowed to cross the Neutral Zone. I think I would have been informed."

She responded with a knowing smile, "That's because I did not cross the Neutral Zone to get here. My ship came here from Teller Prime where I am part of the Romulan Diplomatic Legation."

"What are you called?" I asked.

"I am called the Commander. I know your name. You are Saavik." She replied.

I knew Romulans were often very reticent with their names, preferring to go by achieved title. Commander was a high rank in the Romulan Navy, equivalent to Commodore in Star Fleet. What I didn't know was how she knew my name. Admittedly, I wasn't reticent with it like a Romulan.

Still, I asked, "How do you know my name?"

"A Mother always knows her child." She replied.

I was dumbstruck. Was she claiming to be the monster that had raped a Vulcan to give me birth? The steak knife was still close to hand.

She noticed my hand twitching toward the steak knife and said, "Perhaps you have been told stories about the circumstances of your birth. Perhaps not all of them are true. Perhaps you would like to hear my version before you pass final judgement. Still, if after you have heard what I have to say, you still wish to plunge that knife into my chest, you may have at it. Before I speak, I wanted to give you this. I brought you a present. I understand that is traditional among humans when Mother and Daughter long separated are re-united."

Then she pulled out and dropped a small med-kit on the table. It was sealed from the manufacturer. It was just a simple kit that, no doubt, could have been purchased at one of many gift shops on this ship.

My hand stopped inching it's way to the knife. The truth was, there were a lot of details I didn't know about my birth. Ambassador Spock had told me about how Romulans raped Vulcans. He claimed he didn't have specific knowledge as to who my birth parents were. I also had started to learn when I examined the story of the Five-Year Mission, a lot of details got left out. It had made me aware that there were a lot of things people hadn't told me on Vulcan. Vulcans were always so worried about appearances. Telling the wild Romulan girl things that might upset her, or that she might not have enough self-discipline to keep to herself, was typical.

There was also the issue that, having been rescued and brought to Vulcan at age eight, I had very few memories of my life beforehand.

The Commander spoke, "I have access to some intelligence. I know, and can see on your tunic, that you have led your ship to victory. You are your Mother's daughter. I know, and can see on your tunic, that you have risen to my rank in record time. A second time, you are your Mother's daughter. I also know you have achieved command of your own ship at a remarkably young age. A third time, you are your Mother's daughter.

"I did not know you would be here, until I saw you on this ship last night. Then I had to speak to you. I had the invitation for this event sent to you in the hopes you would come, and we would have a chance to talk. Still, before we go too far, open the kit, take a sample of me, whatever sort you wish, have it checked. That will prove my word is true. I suspect, you have been told a great many untruths. A great deal of lying Federation propaganda. Many truths have simply been withheld from you. Ask of me what you will."

I opened the kit and could hear the hiss of air as the factory seal broke. Within the kit, there were several ways I could take a genetic sample; I chose a simple lancet. I lanced the back of her hand and took a small blood sample in a phial, which I secreted into my uniform.

"Why did you rape my birth Father?" Was my first question.

The Commander actually laughed. "It was hardly rape. It was very consensual. In fact, he seduced me. I was a successful officer in the Romulan Navy. He wanted to steal one of our cloaking devices. To do so, he needed to distract me at a critical moment. He succeeded in both ways. When he had the cloaking device, he used his superior Federation technology to kidnap and humiliate me as well.

"I was returned to Romulus, in an exchange of prisoners. Of course, having lost a cloaking device and having allowed myself to be kidnapped, I was humiliated and drummed out. I also found I was pregnant. That did not endear me to my family when I had to return to them already in disgrace, having brought disgrace upon them. They saw it as a further, final disgrace and encouraged me to end the pregnancy. I'm not sure why, but I chose not to."

I was so shocked; I was practically dumbfounded. This was so completely different than anything I had ever been told before. Clearly, she had me take the sample as proof of her good word.

Still I had more questions, some things didn't fit. "How did I come to be on the streets of Remus?"

I could tell she seemed a bit angry at that question, but she gritted her teeth and answered, "When you were three, your Father came to Romulus as an Ambassador. He was a representative of the mighty Federation. The Senate of the Empire quavered before him. He found out that I, a mere Romulan, had born him a child. Perhaps you are aware of how important appearances are to Vulcans?"

It had been an ongoing theme of my youth. How important appearances were. How I was failing to maintain appearances and embarrassing the family because I chose to exist.

I nodded.

The Commander continued, "When he found out about you, he demanded that you be given to him, your rightful Father. Of course, he claimed, a Father's rights superseded those of a mere woman. If his rights weren't respected, the Romulan Empire was threatened, there would be sanctions, military constraint, perhaps even invasion. The mighty Star Fleet would come and crush our navy. Bombard us from space. The Romulan Senate collapsed at his feet before his threats. You were dragged from my arms and handed to him. I thought he had taken you home then. It was the most bitter thing I have ever endured, but at least, I thought you were safe on Vulcan and being raised in his prosperous home.

"What I did not find out until later was that your Father could not bear the humiliation of having it be known he had mated wantonly with a lowly Romulan female and had a child from it. So, he dumped you to the streets of Remus as a homeless child with no name. I suppose I should be grateful he didn't shove you out an airlock. Why he couldn't bear to let me raise you in my family home? No one there would have known his name or cared, but I suppose the possibility of shame was too much for him to bear. Far more important to him than your welfare.

"If I had known you were on Remus, there is no stone I would have left unturned to bring you home.

"Then, years later, Ambassador Spock came and made up a story about evil Romulans raping Vulcans. He needed living children to support this story. So, he sifted the streets until he found you and a few others. Then he brought you back to Vulcan as proof of Romulus' shame. Another great heaping pile of Federation propaganda lies.

"When I found out who you were, I ached to come to you. I have watched your career from a distance. I knew if I moved too quickly, or at the wrong time, that knife you so recently reached for might have found my chest before I was given a chance to speak. I am grateful you have heard me out. I accept that this moment may be all I have left as your Mother."

I was still suspicious so I said, "How can I believe any of what you are telling me?"

She smiled again and said, "You have the sample. You will take it back and have it tested. It will prove I am your Mother. Then you will have them check who is your birth father. He is a famous Federation officer and diplomat. When you know his name, you will know who speaks the truth and who lies. I would tell you one last thing; I have always loved you and will always love you."

I had, approximately, an infinite number of questions I wanted to ask before she left. Then there was an explosion.

*** And now a word from our sponsor! ***

If you enjoy Star Wars and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three Star Wars novels I have written, all called Legend of the Harp also available on this site!

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	30. Chapter 30

**Star Trek Lost Destiny**

**By Hemaccabe**

**Book I: Race of Death**

**Chapter 30: Glass Slipper**

**ALL RIGHTS RESERVED**

(Author's Note: In Mr. Scott's Guide to the Enterprise, a lovely technical manual that covers the time frame of this story quite well, which is also available for free online, he talks about phasers a bit. I'm going to modify some of that a bit here. Sestra is becoming Mepro Weapons Industries.

Just in case people have forgotten, in ship's phaser weapons, Type is a standard, not a brand. Like Cat 6 cable. Many different firms can produce Cat 6 cable. Many firms can produce a Type VII or IX ship's phaser weapon. In practice, the first firm that can produce the new higher standard will be selected to supply the Ship's Phaser Type and even if better versions are available later, Star Fleet will stick with what they have rather than risk other problems with a refit. Also, in practice, only two firms seriously compete, Atalskes and Mepro. However, in Tico's case, as she was new construction, and as a new Type XI was not yet available, an improved Type IX was used.

The Type IB, IIB III and IV hand weapons are all featured in MSGE.)

I looked away from the Commander for an instant and saw that a group of heavily armed and armored commandoes had just stormed the ball. They seemed to be shooting at random, hitting walls, tables, a chandelier and a number of people. I looked back and the Commander was gone.

I flipped the table up and reached into my tunic.

They say a dream is a promise one makes to one's heart. If so, I have a dream. It formed having been caught defenseless by Kruge and his henchmen on the Genesis planet. My promise to myself was never to be caught unarmed again.

When I had left the Enterprise after being rescued from the Genesis planet, she was in, somewhat, confused condition. During my Cadet Cruise, the ship had been equipped with Mepro Weapons Industry Type IV phasers. Even as Enterprise was returning to Space Dock, they were replacing the Type IV with Atalskes Type IIB phasers. I preferred the Type IV. They were smoother, sleeker, easier to hand, more accurate, more capable.

I'm sure there were reasons Star Fleet chose the Type IIB. Probably because the bureaucrat making the decision saw they were a tenth of a Credit cheaper.

Mepro, an Earth firm and Atalskes, an Andorian firm, were the two main producers of phaser weapons for the Federation. Mepro had produced the first hand phasers that had been used on NCC-101 Enterprise. They had also produced the design for the phasers that Enterprise class vessels would be equipped with as well.

Mepro would go on to produce the Type III ship's phaser weapons. During the Four Years War, Atalskes, at the behest of the Andorian government, had started selling Star Fleet weapons and provided the first Type V ship's phaser weapons and the hand phasers that Enterprise would have during her Five-Year Mission.

Mepro struck back and provided the Type VII ship's phaser weapons as well as the Phaser III and IV hand weapons used in the Constitution refit.

Atalskes had come back and was providing the Type IX ship's phaser weapons used by the Excelsiors. Star Fleet was also giving up on the Mepro Phaser III and IV in favor of Atalskes' Phaser IB and IIB.

I would point out the new Type IX ship's phaser weapons Ticonderoga had were Mepro products. I was also very partial to the Mepro Type IV hand weapon. It was more powerful, versatile, smaller, easier to handle and sleeker to keep hidden under a uniform. To get the smaller Phaser III, one just snapped off the pistol grip which was an easier conversion than pulling the base unit out of the Type IIB. Of course, the Type IB would be a smaller, more discreet, more diplomatic unit than a Type III, but it was much lumpier and harder to brandish.

Just before I left, I took advantage of the Enterprise's confused condition. I found an armory that had been cracked open and helped myself to a Phaser IV. I had taken to removing the handle and in situations where it normally would not be appropriate for me to go armed, had been stashing the Phaser III on my person.

I drew it now.

I looked back up over the side of the table just in time to see Mr. Winters push Daphne behind himself only to be blasted by one of the commandoes' rifles. James and Daphne were both vaporized instantly.

The obvious thing to do would be to scream and open fire. I controlled myself. Endless FPPSA matches had taught me to be practical. Yes, I could aim and start firing, but what then? I might shoot one or two of them, maybe three, but there were at least a dozen. When they fired back, it would blow through the table, me, then maybe the bulkhead behind me.

I had to be patient even though every nerve in my body screamed to go over that table and fire.

A short time later that felt like eternity to my Romulan side, but my Vulcan side knew was two minutes eighteen seconds, I heard fire behind the commandoes coming from the doorway to the ballroom. I knew that the Main Grandstand had armed security. It was also possible Ticonderoga had beamed over some security personnel.

Now the commandoes had something else to worry about.

They were wearing armor. I couldn't be sure stun would work. I set to maximum. I popped over the table and started shooting. I hit five before they knew something was behind them. The phaser, pushing through armor, didn't have enough power to disintegrate them. Still, they were turned inside out quite convincingly. It looked like a messy way to die.

As they turned, I ducked back down.

My communicator beeped. I popped it out.

"This is Mr. Crater, Captain, what's your condition?"

I replied, "I am fine. I am in the ballroom which is under attack by a group of armored commandoes. Mr. Winters is dead."

There was a split second then Rachel replied, "Should we beam over security personnel to assist or beam you back?"

I already knew my answers, "Negative on both. Raise shields. Security alert all decks. Your primary responsibility is to the security of Ticonderoga. This ship's security is already responding. I need to stay and help. I will contact you when I'm ready. Captain out."

I had been quiet long enough.

I blasted an empty table off to my left. Then used the distraction to move right and leap face first behind the next, still upright, table to the ground. I popped up and saw they were still looking at the table off to my left. I opened fire.

I got three more. I was once again impressed at what a bad way it would be to die. That left only four. They returned fire on me and I began to run. The tables and chairs behind me detonated as I ran, one step ahead of their disruptors.

Unfortunately for them, they shouldn't have been paying me so much attention.

Ship's security stormed in behind them and the last four went down.

The immediate confrontation had ended.

I pulled out my communicator. "This is the Captain."

Mr. Crater responded, "What are your orders?"

I demanded, "What is the status of Ticonderoga?"

Mr. Crater replied, "All secure. No enemy vessels detected. Scanning continues."

I nodded and ordered, "Scan for all Ticonderoga personnel. Once you have us. Drop shields and beam us back starting with me. Raise shields as soon as you have us all aboard. Maintain security alert."

I was putting my phaser away, when I found myself on Ticonderoga's transporter pad. There was Peter operating the transporter.

I ran for the Bridge.

When I got there, Rachel relinquished my chair to me and resumed her normal station.

I snapped the transporter room, "Inform me when all hands are aboard."

I continued, "Mr. Crater, Dr. Marcus, maximum scan please."

I saw them snap to.

Less than two minutes later I got back from Peter, "We have everyone but Mr. Winters and Crewman Sharm."

"Mr. Crater please try and raise the Main Grandstand and Mr. Beattie on Coridan." I continued.

"On it Sir." The busy Rachel replied.

I piped up sickbay, "Do we have casualties?"

Kiki replied, "No Sir. Sickbay is empty of all but routine issues."

I piped up Security, "Is the ship secure?"

Chief T'avor replied, "There have been no detected boarding actions. We are maintaining Security Alert status."

I took a moment to take a deep breath. An attack had been made. If someone wanted to do something, that ball was a good target in and of itself. It was a golden chance to take a pot shot at the Federation's rich and famous. As of this moment, there seemed to be no follow up.

"We have someone from the station hailing us." Rachel reported.

"On main screen." I replied.

An older human male in a security uniform appeared. "I am Head of Security Liu. I am calling to inquire as to the status of your vessel."

I looked at Rachel, who said, "He checks out."

I looked back, "We are secure. We are still missing two crew. I know at least one is dead. Can you give us a report as to what happened over there?"

Several sets of eyes on the Bridge turned to me suddenly when I mentioned one crew member dead.

"We are still trying to figure that out. We are conducting an investigation right now. If we find your missing crewman, we will let you know immediately. It seems the main arc of the terrorist attack was on the ballroom. We are still trying to determine the extent of the casualties. It also seems like there was some effort at the F1 pit causeway, but that seems to have been abandoned by them. Like I said, we're still investigating. If you are aware of any casualties at the ballroom, we would like to know. They were using high-power disruptor rifles which tended to completely disintegrate their victims. We had a number of recording devices in the room, but there was substantial damage. We have to be very careful moving around the space, limited sensor traces may be all the remains and evidence we have of a number of fatalities. Those traces could be lost if someone just walks across them."

I replied, "I was present at the ballroom during the attack. I believe there were twelve of the attackers. I can verify the deaths of Lieutenant James Winter of Star Fleet and this vessel."

There were gasps as I said that.

"Also, Daphne Carmichael, I believe from the South East continent of Terra Nova."

Liu nodded, "That is terrible news, but I'll add it to the report. As you were present in the ballroom, I'll probably need to interview you tonight."

"I will make myself available and cooperate with your investigation. By the way, my compliments to your gallant security personnel. From what I saw, they fought bravely and well." I answered.

"It's nice to hear something good on a night like this. Thank-you. Liu out." Then he disconnected.

Rachel announced, "I have a Mr. Beattie."

"On screen."

Mr. Beattie popped up. "Ticonderoga, Captain Saavik, are you all right?"

I replied, "We have lost at least one member of the crew. We also have a second Crewman unaccounted for, a Crewman Sharm. Any help you can be in tracking him down would be appreciated. However, our ship is intact and secure."

Beattie nodded, "I'll do what I can on that missing crewman. Good to hear your ship is okay so at least that hasn't blown apart. I have a ferry on it's way up to the Main Grandstand with additional armed security and trained investigators. I would appreciate if you could keep an eye on it in transit as it would be an obvious target. I understand you yourself, Captain Saavik, were in the ballroom at the time of the attack?"

"I was." I replied.

"We'll probably need to interview you at some point this evening." He explained.

"I will make myself available and cooperate with your investigation." I replied.

*** And now a word from our sponsor! ***

If you enjoy Star Wars and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three Star Wars novels I have written, all called Legend of the Harp also available on this site!

If you enjoy modern urban fantasy and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three novels I have written based on the Dresden Files universe of Jim Butcher, called Warlock of Omaha, Warlock of Omaha Squared and Warlock of Omaha Cubed!

This writer, like the storyteller in the market of old, now has a hat out hoping for a small gratuity. There is no obligation and I'm grateful you took a moment to read. However, if my writing has found favor in your eyes, please take a moment to go to:

Pay

Pal

.me

/hemaccabe

and throw in a little something, a dime, a quarter, a dollar, etc.

While I love to write, I do have a spouse and a child and a job and many other claims on my time that don't understand why I would spend so many hours banging on a keyboard. A small tangible return would help smooth the way to allow me to provide many more stories.

Please help. Thank-you.


	31. Chapter 31

**Star Trek Lost Destiny**

**By Hemaccabe**

**Book I: Race of Death**

**Chapter 31: It's Not All Over but the Crying**

**ALL RIGHTS RESERVED**

It was really quite anti-climactic from there.

In action vids I know are popular throughout the Federation, they always end with the action. Bad guys shot. All is well with the world.

The dread of having just lost my first crewman. Someone I knew well. Dealing with the pain and regret of his death. Having a second crewman unaccounted for so I couldn't mourn or be relieved. The jitters that moved up my arm, which, when I couldn't hide them anymore, I removed myself to my ready room.

Before the night was out, I would get to do a full interview with Chief of Security Liu and Mr. Beattie. Both wanted me to come to them so we could do the interview in person. I refused. Both wanted to come to the ship. I refused again. Both accepted doing the interview by comm as I sat at my desk in my office.

I also got to have a conversation with CinC RSE DNZ and Admiral Kirk.

The experience had been horrifically painful in the most intense and visceral way. They all asked almost exactly the same questions. So, I got to relive again that experience four more times that night. They all asked for me to fill out extensive written statements. Luckily, my desk comp had the ancient functionality of cut and paste.

I took a first stab at writing a letter to James' parents, but just couldn't.

We sent a message to Mr. Galoorb, who was probably overwhelmed right now and not answering hails, asking what probably everyone else was asking, though we had a special need to know, what F1 racing was going to do in the morning?

I checked newsfeeds. The attack was leading on every major news network. A number of commentators were noting that there was a Star Fleet vessel present for security and asking why we hadn't used our magical omnipotence to have prevented the attack.

I eventually secured us to yellow alert, I didn't need an exhausted crew if something else did happen. I also cancelled all shore leave until further notice.

All while still wearing my dress uniform, still smelling of sweat and ozone.

I called Kiki up to my office.

She was there within a few moments. Upon looking at me, the first thing from her was "Captain, are you all right?"

"Kiki, I can't seem to stop shaking." I replied.

"That's very normal. You have just had a very bad experience. You need to give yourself some time and get some rest."

"I'll try. Is there anything you can give me?" I asked.

"Well there are two options. This," and she went to my food replicator and made me a cup of chicken noodle soup, "drink that, it's a family recipe."

"Is that it?" I asked.

"The second option is a pill, except anything pharmaceutical I give you would impair your judgement." She explained.

"Can't have that." I replied.

"Thought not." Kiki answered.

There was one detail, one very salient detail, I had left out of all the reports. Particularly as it became clear the commandoes in armor had been Romulans. My meeting with the Commander.

I pulled out the tiny phial of blood and handed it to Kiki along with her earrings. I had removed her earrings and placed them in an interior pocket while I had waited those two minutes and eighteen seconds. It had helped to have something else to think about for a moment.

"What's this?" She asked.

"That is totally top secret. No one, and I mean no one but me, gets info on it. Is that understood?" I asked.

"Yes." She replied.

"I need to know if that is my Mother's blood. Do the test." I said.

"I didn't bring the equipment." She replied.

"Then take it down to sickbay and bring me the answer." I replied.

"Aye Aye, Captain." She said, encasing the phial in her hand and heading back out.

While she was away. I drank the soup. It helped.

A few minutes later she came back and looked at me.

"Well?" I asked.

"It is your Mother's blood." Kiki announced somberly.

"I have one more question." I stated.

"Yes Captain?" She replied.

"Check Star Fleet records. See if you can determine who my biological Father is?" I asked.

I already checked." Kiki said.

"Were you able to determine?" I asked.

"Yes." She responded.

"Well?" I prompted.

Kiki finally said, "Your biological Father is Ambassador Spock."

If Kiki had smacked me to the floor, I could not have been more shocked.

I took several deep breaths.

"Thank-you very much Dr. Sulu. I will need some time alone please." I said.

She nodded and said, "I understand. If you need me, just call."

I nodded, which was all I could do, and she left.

I placed a comm myself from my office desk. I applied the highest level of security.

I put the comm through to Ambassador Spock. I needed to speak with him for obvious reasons.

I got through to his messaging system. He was not answering. I left a message, "I must speak to you as soon as possible. This is the highest level of urgency."

I hoped I would hear from him soon. I had much to consider. The Commander's proof had been borne out. There were clearly things which Ambassador Spock had not been completely candid with me about.

I did some research. My Father, Ambassador Spock, had been a Star Fleet Officer since he graduated the Vulcan equivalent of secondary school and chosen to attend Star Fleet Academy on Earth. As our family was already quite prominent, Spock had gone to a very prestigious secondary school, perhaps the most prestigious on Vulcan, the Shi'oren t'Ozhika heh Dor. It was supposed to have been founded by Surak to educate his followers' children. Incidentally, it was where I had also attended.

Ambassador Spock had gone on to defy my Grandfather, Ambassador Sarek and rather than go on to the most prestigious school of higher education on Vulcan, the Vulcan Science Academy and then follow his Father into the diplomatic service, he had defied his Father and gone to the Star Fleet Academy on Earth.

After Star Fleet Academy, Ambassador Spock had served honorably in Star Fleet culminating in being, then, Captain Kirk's First Officer and Chief Science Officer during their famous Five-Year Mission.

Based on my age and my now scientifically proven parentage. My conception and birth had to have happened during that Five-Year Mission. Of course, there was no record of the Enterprise making some sort of incursion into Romulan space. That didn't surprise me. It would hardly reflect well on the Federation for that to have happened. The public Federation record held that there had been a single incursion from the Romulan side into Federation space. That made the Federation both the aggrieved and virtuous party and the Romulans the wholly guilty aggressors.

I knew that there were a number of holes in the record of the Five-Year Mission. Even if I hadn't, my existence proved that.

At the end of the Five-Year Mission, Commander Spock had finally acceded to his Father's wish, took a sabbatical from Star Fleet and became Ambassador Spock. His very first mission had been to Romulus to open more formal diplomatic relations. It was a major success. Permanent ambassadors had been exchanged. There were now formal diplomatic relations between the Romulan Star Empire and the Federation. This also placed Ambassador Spock on Romulus right when the Commander had said I had been dumped to the streets.

Ambassador Spock then had spent the subsequent years going back and forth between Star Fleet and the Vulcan Diplomatic Service. Generally, it seemed to me, going to Star Fleet when he would have a chance to serve with Admiral Kirk and going back to diplomacy when he would have to serve away.

Of course, then Ambassador Spock had made another trip to Romulus when I was eight. He had collected up the half Vulcan children, such as myself, and returned with us to Vulcan. It was now clearer that his selection to adopt me had not been such a coincidence. In this area, the story of the Commander and Ambassador Spock are similar, though obviously they had very different complexions.

Most importantly, Ambassador Spock had never revealed to me that I was his biological daughter, not simply an adoptee of happenstance.

One other bit of useful knowledge I had accumulated, there was a Romulan Legation to Tellar Prime. The Commander was not part of it, nor had any part of the Legation come to Coridan by yacht to be part of the festivities. At least in this way, the Commander had lied to me as well. This tended to implicate her even more in the terrorist attack. Which meant if I now revealed the fact that we had met, my omission would be even more incriminating.

There was no time to sleep and there was no way I could if there was.

At seven AM local time, Mr. Galoorb made a public announcement on behalf of the Formula One Group,

"After extensive review with our security, Federation officials, and all racing teams, we have decided not to give in to terrorism. Rather, events will continue as planned. We will dedicate this Grand Prix to all the innocent victims of last night's attack."

After making his statement to a packed room of journalists, he picked up his tablet and left, taking no further questions. He certainly didn't contact us directly at any point for any extensive review.

I had thought this section of space was as full as it could get. I was wrong. High speed ships carrying journalists from all over the Federation, and perhaps beyond, had been arriving all through the night.

We were receiving and declining requests for comment and questions almost continually keeping Mr. Crater and Mr. Zooey quite busy. I had assigned additional personnel to Rachel to help. We referred all questions, as per regulations, to Star Fleet High Command Public Relations.

This, of course, provoked a comm from Captain Lewis of Star Fleet Public Relations. I went through all the events of the previous evening with her again, making it a fifth time, along with forwarding her the written report.

She was the first to say, "According to this, you're a hero. You killed eight of the twelve attackers single handedly and are primarily responsible for thwarting their plot."

I hadn't thought of myself in that way. I replied, "I was more impressed with the actions of Lieutenant James Winter, who unarmed, gave his life in the attempt to protect civilians."

"That was remarkable as well. It is important for Star Fleet that the truth be told. Mostly over the last six hours, we have been facing criticism for our failure to protect the race. Perhaps with this information, we can change things." Captain Sanders replied.

"I leave that to your expertise Ma'am." I accepted.

"You look like heck. Try and get some sleep. I know it'll be difficult, but you have a long day in front of you." Captain Lewis advised.

"Yes Ma'am." I replied.

"Lewis out," and with that she cut off comm.

Sleep would remain elusive. I went to my quarters and stripped out of my dress uniform. I considered putting it in the refresher, but upon review I could tell my hand tailored dress uniform was too badly damaged, scorched by several near misses. I stripped off my personal possessions and put it in the recycler instead. Then I ordered a replacement. I took a long shower followed by a bath. I think I may have fallen asleep in the bath for a few minutes.

When I snapped awake, having gotten to see James die again, I got out and dried myself off. I did meditate. That also helped.

I dressed in my Formal uniform and returned to the Bridge.

I relieved my long suffering and uncomplaining XO Rachel who hopefully managed to go and get some sleep.

I started reviewing crew. We had a lot of people who had been up and going now for over twenty hours. One of the problems with a small ship like ours and her small crew, there wasn't a deep pool of available replacements. When things got hot, everyone needed to stay at their posts. That was fine if hot was a five-minute shoot out with a Klingon warbird. Not so good when it was a long running crisis like we had been facing.

Still, we were coming up on twelve hours of nothing further happening. It was quite possible the terrorist attack was all there would be.

I started digging through our crew manifest and sending out some temporary assignments. We wouldn't need astrogation for a bit, so I assigned those two crew to replace others who were at twenty plus hours. I started shuffling as many similar officers as possible, life support, for example, could go a few hours without minding. Trying to get the worst situations of overworked crew in hand. It was better when I was done, but not great.

I did get some good news.

Mr. Beattie hailed us again.

"Good Morning Mr. Beattie." I began.

Mr. Beattie looked like he had not slept in some time.

"Good Morning to you. I have some good news." Mr. Beattie announced.

"We could use that, please." I replied.

"We found your Crewman Sharm. Alive and unharmed." Mr. Beattie declared.

I was surprised at how relieved I felt. I hadn't admitted it to myself, but I had been sure he was another casualty of the night before. I had just been waiting for the confirming security footage to show he had been disintegrated.

"Where is he? Can I speak with him?" I asked.

"He's at the orbital transfer station above Coridan, in the Security Office. One moment, I'll see if I can patch him over. Hang on. There."

Suddenly, Mr. Beattie moved to the left-hand side of the screen and Crewman Sharm appeared on the right side.

"Crewman Sharm, are you all right?" I asked urgently.

"Yes Captain. Sorry Captain." A clearly abashed Crewman Sharm replied.

"What happened? How did you get to the transfer station?" I asked.

Crewman Sharm explained, "I took a wrong turn on the Main Grandstand. I ended up on a ferry by mistake. I couldn't fight the crowd and they pushed me on the ferry. Once I was on the ferry, there was nothing they could do; said I would have to take another ferry back up. When I got to the station here, they said all ferries were done for the night and I'd have to wait till morning. I tried to find a comm station to call, but they were all shut too. Then these security people found me this morning after I slept on a bench and brought me here.

"I promise, I didn't take the ferry on purpose. I haven't gone down to the planet or even eaten anything since I got here."

I replied to Crewman Sharm, "Crewman, sit tight. We will get you home."

Then I turned to Mr. Beattie, "Can you make sure my crewman gets something to eat, is placed on the next ferry back and can wait somewhere comfortable until that happens?"

Mr. Beattie nodded, "I think we can handle that. With a situation like this, it'll be a pleasure to take care of something as normal as a lost crewman. Consider it done."

"Thank-you." I replied to Mr. Beattie.

To Crewman Sharm, "Take care and be patient. We will get you home as soon as possible."

"Thank-you Captain." Crewman Sharm replied.

Which ended that conversation. I made a ship wide announcement that Crewman Sharm had been found alive and unharmed and would be back on the ship soon.

The Formula 2 race had gone off without a hitch. I was less appreciative of it today than I had been the day before. I had a lot more on my mind.

*** And now a word from our sponsor! ***

If you enjoy Star Wars and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three Star Wars novels I have written, all called Legend of the Harp also available on this site!

If you enjoy modern urban fantasy and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three novels I have written based on the Dresden Files universe of Jim Butcher, called Warlock of Omaha, Warlock of Omaha Squared and Warlock of Omaha Cubed!

This writer, like the storyteller in the market of old, now has a hat out hoping for a small gratuity. There is no obligation and I'm grateful you took a moment to read. However, if my writing has found favor in your eyes, please take a moment to go to:

Pay

Pal

.me

/hemaccabe

and throw in a little something, a dime, a quarter, a dollar, etc.

While I love to write, I do have a spouse and a child and a job and many other claims on my time that don't understand why I would spend so many hours banging on a keyboard. A small tangible return would help smooth the way to allow me to provide many more stories.

Please help. Thank-you.


	32. Chapter 32

**Star Trek Lost Destiny**

**By Hemaccabe**

**Book I: Race of Death**

**Chapter 32: The Big Race**

**ALL RIGHTS RESERVED**

(Author's Note: Sex in Star Trek. I have left this note for a later chapter as I expected this to be a sticky subject. Star Trek is a sexy show. I know it's hard to think of Star Trek that way, buried beneath the conception that it's a nerdy show about high concepts, but it is. From nearly naked green dancing slave girls on, practically every episode provides us with a hot alien babe presented without self-reflection or concern about masculine or feminine gaze. For the ladies, there are plenty of buff guys and Kirk had a tough time keeping his shirt on. Chekov was added for almost the sole purpose of appealing to adolescent girls.

Star Trek did, however, have to cope with a much more primitive standards department and the idea that this was a show kids would watch. This meant there was a limit how graphic they could get. Still, while little would overtly happen, I feel it was generally understood for the adult audience that we were expected to believe, stuff happened. Sometimes, like in "Blink of an Eye," it gets very overt. We get to see Kirk and the hot alien babe of the week, after having repaired to Kirk's quarters for obvious reasons, then her brushing her hair and him putting his boots back on. It's pretty blatant that Kirk has gone where no man has gone before, at least in her case, that day. It's also clear Kirk did what he had to with that woman, not for love, but to gain advantage for his ship. Something he does more than once.

I would also point out that, while Kirk has the reputation for exploring strange new worlds, Spock also gets his share of the action. In at least two episodes, "This Side of Paradise" and "All Our Yesterdays," it's pretty clear Spock gets to do some seeking. He also seems quite close to Droxine in, "The Cloud Minders." This is hardly an exhaustive review. Spock is second only to Kirk in rank, and in going boldly. Clearly Vulcan males have the ability to do certain things more often than once every seven years.

This all leads back to the Enterprise Incident. Spock and the Commander get very close in her quarters clearly doing the Romulan/Vulcan equivalent of a heavy make out session. Did they do the deed there in her quarters? After she came back wearing something more comfortable? Maybe, maybe not. The two then have a final scene together where they discuss their relationship. Clearly, the Commander isn't going to the brig, but some comfortable quarters. Some of what Spock and the Commander say could be understood to mean they had already done the deed on her ship. It could just mean Enterprise had ended up with the Commander in custody. It definitely seems like there is some sexy double talk going on. However, in their final conversation Spock says, "I hope that you and I exchanged something more permanent"

The conversation ends with the Commander saying, "It will be our secret."

That last bit could be interpreted several ways. My Occam's razor says they exchanged the telepathic bond of Pon Far on the Romulan ship in the Commander's quarters. Then, they repaired to the Commander's quarters on Enterprise to consummate it physically.

For Spock, she is a very compelling woman. A rare Romulan lady who has managed, through ability and intellect, to smash glass ceilings and rise to the rank of Commander in the male dominated Romulan fleet and society. In addition, I think Spock is still hurt about how things went in Amok Time. He's looking for a new Mrs. Right and doesn't realize he's just met MS Very Wrong. For the Commander, we know about the Romulan desire to mate with Vulcans to show sexual dominance. The Commander knows she's in dutch for not only failing to bring home Enterprise but managing to lose a cloaking device and being taken prisoner herself. Bringing home a half-Vulcan baby will help act as a consolation prize.

As Saavik's and my research show, the timing works.)

There were a variety of pre-race activities and attractions. The F1 race craft were slowly lining up on the causeway. I noticed they had pretty females in revealing outfits holding unneeded umbrellas over the mostly male drivers. That seemed a bit archaic and insensitive to me, but I'm sure there were a lot of fans who enjoyed it.

We were scanning the area hard. Since Rachel was off getting some sleep, David was working with Ensign Zooey on that, but we had found nothing.

I snapped a button on my armrest, "Mr. Preston, are you ready for the race and what we discussed before?"

Peter responded promptly, "Yes Captain, I'm in the transporter room. I did rig up a large monitor so we could watch a current feed from ship's sensors in addition to the media coverage. If anything happens, we'll be ready. There may be a few additional hands about the transporter room, just to help. If you want to drop by and visit, you'd certainly be welcome."

"Excellent, keep me apprised." I replied and cut him off. It was cheeky of him to invite me to a part of my own ship. At the same time, it was also a kind and friendly gesture.

The race commenced and went normally for some time. I was getting a variety of delayed work done from my chair on the Bridge using a clip/tablet, but I also gave the race a glance from time to time.

When I glanced, I was mostly looking for Williams' junior driver, Ruark. While Williams' senior driver seemed firmly lodged in twentieth place, Ruark seemed to be jousting back and forth between eighteenth and nineteenth place. I had hoped he would do better and be able to climb up. I understood that if he could climb to tenth place, he would get some sort of points and that would be important. Perhaps then they would be able to afford an auto-beam out for him? Admittedly, I was not conversant in the details of F1.

As I did watch Ruark from time to time, I was once again impressed at his piloting. It was one thing how he took that course in practice and qualifying. Now that he was racing, and had to deal with other racers, it was amazing on a whole different level. Particularly, the artistic way he took the curves was remarkable.

Still, I was distracted thinking and rethinking the research I had done the night before. Trying to balance one biased truth against another with lies and omissions like additional weights on the scale.

Of course, Ambassador Spock was too busy to check his messages, or, if he had, to respond.

At race minute thirty-three, there was a terrible collision between three craft. All three pilots were able to use their auto-beam out and beamed out safely. The media feed explained, "This was not a terrorist incident and not that unusual. Unfortunately, this sort of thing happens in racing."

The good news was this meant that Ruark, previously in eighteenth place, was now in fifteenth place, a very good showing for Williams.

Then race craft started detonating all by themselves.

Media coverage started screaming, "This is not at all normal! Craft should not be exploding! There is now a yellow flag sending all racers back to pit row. Still, this is very dangerous. If one of these craft detonates while in their pit station or after they have been parked, it could cause major damage and loss of life!"

I immediately hit shipwide, "Red Alert. All hands on deck."

Then I disconnected shipwide and announced, "Start scanning those race craft. Try and determine what is causing them to explode."

I then used the armrest to bring up Peter. "Mr. Preston, keep an eye on our project. However, I want you to coordinate with scan and see if we can determine what's destroying those ships!"

"Aye Aye Captain." I got back from Peter.

Perhaps I should have ordered Peter to beam Ruark out then and there. I knew Ruark would never forgive me if I did and his ship didn't explode. He might not forgive me even if it did explode. Without the pilot in the ship, it would definitely crash. Beaming Ruark out would be destroying his ship which wasn't clearly yet in danger.

Ensign Zooey kept me from musing on this too much by shouting in a somewhat panicked and not very professional way, "Romulan Bird of Prey decloaking beyond the Main Grandstand!"

"On main viewer." I replied.

There was a full size, Romulan Bird of Prey present, approximately fifty percent obscured by the Main Grandstand. Facing us.

Rachel was just arriving on the Bridge.

Ensign Zooey announced, "We're being hailed!"

"By the Romulan Bird of Prey?" I asked. There were a lot of people who might be clogging up our comm lines right now.

Ensign Zooey replied, "No, by someone named 'the Commander.' She says you'll want to speak to her."

"On main screen." I ordered.

There she was again. On my main screen, where our conversation would be recorded and become part of the record.

She was now no longer wearing a showy gown, but a Romulan Commander's uniform. "Hello my daughter." She began.

"I had my suspicions about your placement in the Romulan Diplomatic Legation to Tellar Prime." I replied with skepticism in my voice.

"Yes, a necessary fiction to allow us to complete our conversation last night." She replied then continued, "I assume you have had time to check on the main piece of evidence and then answer the question I posed you?"

"I have." I replied.

"Then you now have a choice my daughter. You can stay where you are and where you have been deceived your whole life, or you can come with me, the one who has always been truthful with you. You can finally have the Mother who loves you and will groom you for great things. We can finally be a family. With what you have learned, you should know that you are more Romulan than anything else. The Star Empire calls out to your Romulan blood to do your duty."

Her offer shook me to my core. I had been deceived. Still, she was asking me to betray all my oaths, abandon my duty and bring this new ship to the Romulans. At one level, I knew I could do it. Yes, there would be some crew that would resist, but I was the Captain. I could play on their confusion and loyalties until it was too late. We would likely have Romulan Commandoes on ship backing me quickly.

More importantly, I had never had a Mother. My relationship with my Father had never seemed very close, he was always cold and distant in what I had felt was the Vulcan way. What if it was for another reason?

I would certainly still have a career. I had to imagine I would be a hero of the Romulan Star Empire. The heroic defector who had brought over Star Fleet's newest ship. Still, none of that was as important as the dream that had always been hiding somewhere deep inside that I could have a real family of my own. Someone who would hold me the way I held that doll. Somewhere inside was still a cold, wet, hungry three-year-old girl who just wanted, desperately, for her Mommy to come, protect her and take her home.

I looked up at the smiling face of the Commander, and, for a split second, I considered it.

Then I replied, "I am afraid I cannot accommodate your request Commander. The Oath I swore as a Star Fleet officer is both specific and binding. I order you and your ship to leave this space and return across the Neutral Zone at once."

The Commander nodded, "I understand. Still, this does not end our conversation. There will be another time, another place."

With that her communication ceased.

Rachel announced, "They are raising shields and powering up weapons!"

Just then I got a message from Peter, "Ruark's ship just went up! I'm beaming him over as fast as I can!"

Rachel asked urgently, "Should we raise shields?"

Ever since Khan's first attack, the hour had not gone by when I hadn't thought to myself, "If my ship is ever under attack, the first thing I will do is raise shields. Even if it was not completely clear, I would raise shields."

"No, power up weapons. Let me know the moment Ruark is aboard. Beam him directly to the Bridge."

Rachel announced, "Romulan ship firing plasma cannons!"

"Everyone brace!" I ordered.

Then Ticonderoga shook. We had just taken a direct hit. Sparks blew out of the unmanned weapons station.

In the back of my mind I was wondering why they were using plasma cannons. Plasma cannons hadn't been used on Star Fleet vessels since before NCC-101. Still, they could be very dangerous at short range and sub-light speeds.

"Damage control all decks." I ordered.

Then Ruark appeared on the Bridge near the turbolift door.

"Raise shields." I ordered.

"They're firing again. They are powering their plasma torpedo." Rachel announced.

The ship shuddered again. There were sparks from the helm.

Rachel announced, "Shields up. They are moving behind the Main Grandstand. They will be ready to fire the Plasma Torpedo any second."

Then Rachel continued, "If the Romulan Bird of Prey fires a plasma torpedo, it would blow through the Main Grandstand without detonating, still killing everyone aboard. If we then turned and ran, it would blast through every ship in it's path. It's unlikely anything present would have the density necessary to trigger the plasma torpedo's detonation other than Ticonderoga. Even if we detonated the torpedo with a phaser shot, when it went, it would take a huge number of the densely parked spacecraft present with it."

"Does AEGIS have any suggestions?" I asked.

Rachel replied, "AEGIS system partially out. Can make recommendations, cannot execute. AEGIS does have a maneuver suggested."

"On main screen." I ordered.

The screen showed AEGIS' suggestion. An impossibly tight and elegant barrel roll with a spin at the end, all at warp. The maneuver would allow us to move around the Main Grandstand and to take position behind the Romulan Bird of Prey, then fire on it at point blank range. No human could likely pull it off. James was dead. Ensign Kyle, who I intended to counsel to try Navigation, definitely couldn't.

Then I saw the solution.

"Ruark, take the Helm. Execute the maneuver. Mr. Chekov, when we are in position, fire phasers and photon torpedoes."

Then things went better than I had any right to expect they would. Ensign Kyle literally fell out of his seat to the left. Ruark took one running leap of a step and leap frogged into the Helmsman's seat.

Instantly, the ship jumped into warp and started barrel rolling.

Rachel announced, "Plasma torpedo imminent."

We were no longer directly in the torpedo's line of fire, but if they launched, thousands would die just like Becky.

Then we were in position, Chekov announced, "Weapons locked! Firing Captain!"

Normally, firing of weapons was Helm's job, maintaining weapon status was Navigation's. However, we had practiced it both way at Eris. Jascha was the better shot. For Ticonderoga, we had moved weapons to Navigation's responsibility.

Three banks of phasers lanced out at full power and in anger for the first time.

Rachel announced, "Romulan Bird of Prey's shields are down!"

"Fire photon torpedoes!" I ordered, with perhaps more passion than necessary.

Chekov announced, "Firing photon torpedoes!"

The two angry red eyes seemed to float down to the Romulan ship's back though I objectively knew they were screaming at super high warp speed.

The torpedoes detonated in the Romulan ship's back. A burst of uncoordinated plasma coughed very inelegantly forward from the Romulan ship's plasma torpedo launcher. I was then certain they wouldn't be able to fire their plasma torpedo.

"Romulan Bird of Prey firing her rear plasma cannons!" Rachel reported.

We took another hit on the nose, but this time, finally with shields up. Ticonderoga still shuddered, but not as badly. I noticed no more sparks.

When the second of dazzle from the plasma bolts cleared, the Bird of Prey was gone!

"Location of Bird of Prey." I demanded.

Rachel replied, "They just put up their cloak. Scan, is damaged, still trying to resolve enemy ship position. Motion sensors show Romulan vessel is turning and moving off toward the Neutral Zone. Should we pursue?"

"No, hold position. Continue to scan for another ship. Assume they are using other vessels and objects as a screen. Attempt to pierce cloak with maximum scan."

There was a substantial area I had noticed two days prior behind the Main Grandstand where other ships, in this crowded space, would not go because it had no view of the race. I suspected that the Romulan vessel had settled happily into that spot, putting the Main Grandstand between us. Even if our scanners would have pierced their cloaking device, they wouldn't do it through the massive bulk of the Main Grandstand. The Romulan ship, and I suspect the Commander, had been stealthier prey than I had been a skilled hunter. Still, I had learned her trick the hard way, I wouldn't make that mistake a second time.

I could pursue the Bird of Prey, and at this point, I believed I could capture or destroy her. However, what if they had one more trick up their sleeves? What if there was one more Romulan warship prowling this system in cloak?

We had just faced down a major Romulan capital ship. Something like what Enterprise had faced twenty-five years back. Still it was, inexplicably, somewhat low tech. What if their partner was an up to date D-7 with cloak and plasma torpedoes? Clearly their goal had been to maximize destruction and death. What could that ship do if we left everyone here defenseless?

Rachel announced, "We're being hailed again by the Commander."

"On main viewscreen." I replied.

There was the Commander. "That is quite a lady of a ship you have there. Until we meet again."

Then she was gone.

"Navigation, make course to execute circuits of the area to insure no objects can screen an enemy ship. Keep us close to the main race venue. Helm execute carefully so as to avoid collisions. Comms, put up a message informing all other ships to clear our path. Recommend they clear the system."

Everyone went to work on my commands.

"Also, Comms, send logs of recent event to nearest Star Fleet Command Point." I ordered. I knew that point would be Star Base 3. I knew this would mean there would be questions about my relationship with the Commander.

*** And now a word from our sponsor! ***

If you enjoy Star Wars and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three Star Wars novels I have written, all called Legend of the Harp also available on this site!

If you enjoy modern urban fantasy and my writing, you may also enjoy a series of three novels I have written based on the Dresden Files universe of Jim Butcher, called Warlock of Omaha, Warlock of Omaha Squared and Warlock of Omaha Cubed!

This writer, like the storyteller in the market of old, now has a hat out hoping for a small gratuity. There is no obligation and I'm grateful you took a moment to read. However, if my writing has found favor in your eyes, please take a moment to go to:

Pay

Pal

.me

/hemaccabe

and throw in a little something, a dime, a quarter, a dollar, etc.

While I love to write, I do have a spouse and a child and a job and many other claims on my time that don't understand why I would spend so many hours banging on a keyboard. A small tangible return would help smooth the way to allow me to provide many more stories.

Please help. Thank-you.


	33. Chapter 33

**Star Trek Lost Destiny**

**By Hemaccabe**

**Book I: Race of Death**

**Chapter 33: Family**

**ALL RIGHTS RESERVED**

(Author's Note: Cloaking Systems. There has been an almost grand total of nothing said about cloaking systems, what they do and how they work in Star Trek. Captain Kirk speculates about bending light at a great cost of energy. Since Star Trek scanners can't really be dependent on light, that makes no sense. There was a little more said in the ST: TNG episode the Pegasus, but not really. So how does cloaking work? To be honest, I have no idea and nor should I, I live on 21st century Earth for goodness sake. What I can say is how I will treat them in Lost Destiny. Cloaking devices allow a ship to be functionally invisible and very difficult to detect with scanners. However, the cloaking device requires so much energy, that while cloaked, a vessel typically cannot go to warp or fire most weapons. In addition, the bigger, more awkward or more extreme the maneuvers a ship under cloak performs, the more likely the cloak will fail.

It's my considered opinion that, over time, cloaking devices have gotten better and more sophisticated while scanners have gotten better and more capable of penetrating cloaks to a greater, or lesser extent. The cloak being used by the Romulan ship in Balance of Terror would have been better than the cloak used a hundred years prior by Romulan ships during the Earth-Romulan War. The cloaks available to Romulan ships at the story point of Lost Destiny would be better than those available in Balance of Terror.

This makes sense based on the conversation between Spock and the Commander in The Enterprise Incident, where both seem to feel that the cloak that was stolen, presumably some of the best technology the Romulan Star Empire had at the time, would be penetrated soon.

Could a ship be able to fire and/or go to warp while cloaked? Presumably yes, however, such a ship would have to have much more warp core and fuel than a ship would normally carry making the ship very expensive, while, at the same time, slow and difficult to handle. Meaning that in combat, it's likely to reveal it's position and be destroyed taking a huge capital investment with it.)

Within a few minutes, we had detected the small, magnetic contact explosives still on several racers. With a bit of transporter finesse, Peter was able to beam the explosives off into empty space where they detonated harmlessly. In the end, with the three racers who had destroyed themselves, only eight race craft came home. Luckily, auto-beam out had saved all the pilot's lives except Ruark who was saved by Ticonderoga.

An hour after the battle, with the first Romulan vessel not turning around and no second being detected, I had secured again to Yellow Alert.

The first message I received was a written message from CinC RSE DNZ,

"If you wish, we can move Rodney to a position that is closer and more able to support?"

Rodney was an Excelsior class that was also patrolling the RSE DNZ.

Even as I received the message, ships were rapidly leaving the area. There were already two small in-system cutters present assisting in two separate collisions where ships, so eager to leave, had collided. We had offered to assist but wanted to keep our distance in case there was further action. Mr. Beattie assured me they had the situation well in hand.

Mr. Galoorb had another press conference, "The Coridan Grand Prix is considered concluded. Final position is based on the moment the first race craft was destroyed by terrorist efforts. As of right now, the time of the next Grand Prix at Regula has not changed but is subject to consultation with the race teams. We will make more announcements as we have more information available. Thank-you."

Once again, Mr. Galoorb picked up his tablet and left without taking questions. He certainly did not speak to us directly.

I sent back to CinC RSE DNZ,

"No need at this time. All of this could be a bluff to get us to leave another part of the border open. Will notify should the situation change."

Then Rachel announced, "Admiral Kirk on live comm for you Captain."

"I'll take it in my quarters." I replied and went down to my quarters where I activated my comm system. Admiral Kirk appeared on my view screen. I tapped a control to insure maximum privacy just in case I had curious crew people.

"I just got your logs." Admiral Kirk said.

"I hope my conduct was to your high standards." I replied coolly.

"It would seem you have talked to the Commander before, perhaps recently?" Admiral Kirk probed.

"Just once, recently. It seemed like personal business." I replied.

"It seems like it became more pertinent?" Admiral Kirk continued to probe.

"It did. I will definitely include it in my next report." I replied.

"Good. The Commander is extremely dangerous. This could have gone much worse. I was able to track down Ambassador Spock. He was away on Federation business, someplace that didn't have a comm connection. He should be contacting you soon. I've also authorized him to talk about some things with you that are normally considered too secret to discuss." Admiral Kirk said.

"Thank-you Sir. Is there anything else?" I replied.

"Oh, something minor, apparently you tractored someone's ship at some point?" Admiral Kirk asked.

"Yes sir." I replied.

"You didn't know that the yacht owner was a major Peace faction supporter and opposed budgets for Star Fleet, did you?" Admiral Kirk asked.

"No Sir. The ship was in violation of safety regulations. It was also impeding my ship's safe operation and ability to protect other ships." I replied.

"Understood. Kirk out." Was all he said as he nodded, and the connection closed.

I decided to wait in my quarters so I could meditate and hopefully clear my head for the conversation I expected to come.

I wasn't disappointed.

Rachel's voice came through to my quarters, "Ambassador Spock on Comm for you."

I pressed the intercom button and said, "I will take it here in my quarters."

Spock's face appeared on my screen. Once again, I tapped for maximum privacy.

Spock began, "I understand it is urgent that we speak."

"Yes, I have many questions." I answered.

"I understand that you have met your Mother, the Commander." He asked as a statement.

"I have." I answered.

"Then I expect you have learned certain truths, but also suffered certain deceptions and are now trying to untangle one from the other." Spock again stated.

"Yes." I replied simply.

"First, I have reviewed your recent logs. Once again, I am grateful for your service and justifiably proud." Spock stated in a slightly warmer tone.

I was not yet ready to be warmer. "I have learned certain things about our relationship as well."

"Yes, I imagine you have, and you have questions." He answered once again realizing how difficult this was to be.

How many times had it been thrown in my face, in the cold, understated Vulcan way, that, at some level, I did not belong in my family home. That I, a rescued gutter creature, should be grateful that I had been adopted. Should be grateful I was getting what I got and not expect what a real child of the house should.

Then before I could form a question, Ambassador Spock began to speak, "I was never pleased by the deception that I was required to make with you. That I could never admit I was your natural born Father. It was a deception required by an older deception and secret. Perhaps I was too willing to accept keeping it a secret because it also protected my shame." He said.

I was barely gripping my calm with white knuckles, but as he said "shame," my anger flared, "The shame that you had something like me as a daughter?"

Then I could see sadness on his face. "No never that. You have always made me proud. The shame was my own failure to protect you."

That rocked me back on my heels.

"You must explain." I stated.

"I will start from the beginning. I have just finally been given permission which I have requested many times since you came to live with us and have never before received. I have never before disobeyed an order, but perhaps in this case, I should have." Spock began.

I leaned back in my seat. I sensed this would be a long story.

"This all began during the third year of our Five-Year Mission. One must try to remember what things were like then. In the current time, the Federation and Star Fleet have had some opportunity to improve our technology, build our fleet and improve the strength of our deterrent. Still, we must always be cautious. However, then, despite being peace time, we were still losing ships, including Constitution class ships, every few months, from an already small fleet.

"Because of the intervention of the Organians, we had not fallen into open war with the Klingon Empire, but day by day, incident by incident, it was not clear if the Organians truly would stop another war if it started. They had stated clearly they detested interfering with our affairs."

I was aware that there were still regular incidents where Star Fleet and Klingon vessels fought. There seemed to be no higher power preventing such skirmishes. The Triangle and the Azure nebula were notorious for these exchanges.

Spock continued, "Then it had become clear that the Klingons and the Romulans were working together. They had exchanged technology. Now Romulans had D-7 cruisers with their superior engines and equivalent weapons. The Klingons had cloaking devices. Star Fleet had an ever-shrinking fleet of Constitution class vessels and many threats on many other fronts and always seemed to be finding more.

"A bold plan was conceived. It would use several bits of intelligence acquired at great cost. It would require an enormous amount of risk. But, if it worked, it would gain cloaking technology for the Federation.

"We were aware that a certain portion of the Federation-Romulan border was patrolled by a particular, notorious, Romulan Commander and her fleet. Yes, she is the Commander you have met, your Mother.

"The Commander's specialty, what had allowed her to achieve such rank, was suborning treason. She would go to various, small neighboring systems and powers. She would find ways to seduce them into the Romulan Star Empire.

"Perhaps she would convince the democratically elected President of one small republic to betray his duty for power. No longer would he have to face the indignity of an election. With the might of the Romulan military behind him, he could be president for life. Only too late would he realize that he had sold his people, and even himself, into slavery.

"Perhaps she takes a dictator or chieftain from another place. Seduces him with the technology and luxuries available from Romulus to give his loyalty and people.

"Perhaps when she can't trick the leader, she finds a faction leader and seduces him to rebel with Romulan support.

"The Commander was a master of this very traditional Romulan strategy."

I had to admit the truth of this. The Commander had almost succeeded with me. In truth, perhaps she should have.

Spock continued, "When Kirk and I conceived our plan, we decided to use this against her.

"We would also use the power of Romulan propaganda against them. We knew that when people lie enough, they often forget how to distinguish lies from the truth and begin to believe their own lies.

"We entered the sector where we knew she was patrolling and dangled the irresistible bait of seizing one of the Federation's most advanced Starships, all her technology and crew.

"We also knew that in their propaganda they would have portrayed humans in general, and Captain Kirk in particular, as arrogant blowhards. Kirk played to this stereotype.

"At the same time, Romulan propaganda would have portrayed a stereotype of other Federation races, particularly Vulcans, as facing prejudice from a dominant Humanity. This meant I should have been an aggrieved and ungrateful subordinate, quite ready to be suborned.

"I played to that stereotype. Appearing as if I felt Captain Kirk was incompetent and I should be Captain. It was just the sort of opening the Commander would look for and she went for it with all her skill.

"There is a danger. When lies become too common, even the liar may forget the truth. That is one of many reasons why the truth is so precious.

"What I did not expect and what I was not prepared for, was just how skilled she was. In a very real way, she did seduce me. In the end, I was able to cling to my duty, but I had become intensely infatuated with her.

"The Commander is a formidable woman. She earned her rank in a male dominated society. She is very beautiful. Even now, even with all she has done, I would probably give up my career and take her back if she would give up hers. I think that is unlikely though."

I realized then, part of my fascination with the Five-Year Mission was that I was not just learning about Star Fleet history, I was learning about myself.

"What was your shame?" I asked, prompting him along from ruminating in silence.

Spock began speaking again, "Romulan society is made up of two classes, the plebeians and patricians. The plebeians make up most of the society. They are the poor, suffering, hard-working masses that make Romulan society function. The patricians are a few families of fantastically wealthy and powerful aristocrats who rule. The patricians select one of their own to be Praetor who, in theory, rules with absolute power. In fact, some Praetors are more powerful and do enjoy absolute rule. However, most must pay attention to the wants and needs of the other patricians, particularly those who sit in the Romulan Senate.

"The Commander was definitely a patrician and from an unusually prominent family. She might have hoped to either be the first woman Praetor or a Praetor's wife. I did not then know about their custom of raping Vulcans to procreate. How such children would be treated.

"The Pon Far telepathic bond that had been made with T'pring in my childhood had been broken. I made a new one with the Commander in her quarters on her flagship. She seduced that from me. We consummated that bond physically in her quarters on Enterprise. I knew that there was some chance she might have a child from such a union but did not expect it. If I thought at all about what would become of such a child, I assumed that she would raise it. That you would grow up in a Romulan patrician's home with the best of everything that Romulan society could provide you."

I interrupted, "She said you came when I was three. That you demanded me and then dumped me to survive on the streets."

"I did come to Romulus when you were three. I did not then find out that you existed. I hardly was in a position to demand very much. I think you will come to find that Romulans are a very proud culture. Even if they are totally overborn, they will still likely not yield. I was a very junior diplomat. The Federation and Star Fleet feared the Romulan Fleet greatly. Our own fleet was at it's nadir.

"I was successful in opening more regular diplomatic relations, but I achieved this by flattery and self-abasement, not demands and threats.

"My suspicion is that once the Commander had reaped the benefits to her prestige that her success with me in producing you represented, she dumped you.

"I did become aware of you when you were eight. The desire to rescue you became my famous crusade to rescue the half Vulcan children."

I had to ask, "Why did you not acknowledge our true relationship then?"

"I could not. To do so would reveal what is known only in very small circles as the 'The Enterprise Incident.' The incident is at a very high level of classification. Also, I was ashamed that I had produced a child and failed to see to her protection."

"How do I know now that what you say is true and what she says is a lie?" I asked.

Spock answered, "In a very real way, what we have both said is a lie and what we have both said is the truth. I would not be surprised if the Commander, in her own mind, believes she is innocent. That what she has done is proper."

That was not the simple, clear answer I had been hoping for.

Spock's head tilted in what for him, was a deeply emotional sign of concern. "You have never been able to remember much from that age."

That was true. Most of my memories from before age eight were blocked. I had flashes of images of being cold, hungry, people hurting me. The child psychologists that Spock had taken me to had advised that these memories were better forgotten. That they might always be gone or, if they did come back, it would be better if they came back later.

I nodded.

"Try to remember when you were three?" Spock asked.

I sat. I meditated. I tried. I couldn't.

"I can't." I said with some frustration.

"Then you will have to wait for the memories to come back in their own time." Spock answered.

"I need certainty now." I said stubbornly.

"There is one way to know now." Spock answered.

I could tell from his tone of voice what that way would be. It was what he always said when he wanted to encourage me in the one tool Vulcans prized above all others.

"And what is that?" I bit.

"Logic." Spock said.

I suppose I should have seen that one coming.

"How does logic answer?" I asked.

"The Commander says that I demanded you be dumped to the street at age three?"

"Yes."

"The Commander says I reclaimed you at age eight?"

"Yes, but only to support your false claim of half-Vulcan children."

"It would be illogical to dump you at three only to reclaim you at eight. Far more convenient to have taken you at three. As for some propaganda effort, review the records of my 'crusade' to rescue the half-Vulcan children. There were tragically many. It was hard to find homes for all of them. In the end, some had to go to Rigel. If I was bent on concealing you, I could have left you on Reemus."

"Then why didn't you just acknowledge your paternity?" I asked frustrated.

"For all the reasons I have said before and one more." Spock answered.

"What was that reason?" I could tell he was deeply reluctant to say, so I added, "I must know."

He finally nodded and said, "Irrational pride."

I don't think there was a single thing he could have said that would have shocked me more. For a Vulcan to admit "Irrational pride," I don't think there is anything that would embarrass a Human as much.

"Please. Explain." I said.

It took Spock some time, but finally he said, "If I said you were my biological daughter, others would have thought I took you as an obligation. By saying you were adopted, it created the pretense that I must care for you much more because I had chosen you. That you were more wonderful."

Strangely, despite the fact that we were separated by many light years, I felt the truth of this in him.

I nodded my head in the way of an obedient and respectful Vulcan daughter as best as I could and said, "I accept your truth Father."

He replied, "I am so unreasonably proud and happy you are my daughter, Saavikaam."

We both tilted our heads to the screen in the most intimate embrace considered proper on Vulcan.

Eventually he said, "I am afraid I must go."

"Why?" I asked.

"As always, lives depend on my intervention. Also, for a new reason." Spock answered.

"A new reason?" I asked.

"I'm sure your duty calls you."

I could not argue. We lifted our hands in salute and he said, "Live Long and Prosper my daughter."

I replied, "Live long and prosper my Father."

The connection closed.

I sat in my quarters, feeling rebalanced for the first time in several days.

Then the door chime sounded.

"Enter." I said and the door opened.

There was David, looking resplendent in his formal uniform, with a tray that looked like it had a pot of tea and two mugs.

I stood up and he came in.

"I hope I didn't interrupt?" He asked.

"No, I was just doing some meditating. How can I help you?" I answered and asked.

"Rachel said you had just got a call from Ambassador Spock. I thought, considering what we saw today, you might need to talk. So, I brought a pot of tea." David explained.

"How very thoughtful of you. Thank-you. You may place the tray on my table." I said gesturing to the table in my quarters that was expected to be used for dining.

David put the tray down and turned to look at me.

I looked him right in the eye and asked, "Why didn't you write to me? I thought you cared for me. That there was something between us. But you seemed reluctant to even write?"

David's shoulders went down, and his mouth became a flat line. After a few moments that my Romulan side were the lifetimes of several universes and my Vulcan side said was less than three seconds, he began to speak.

"When you left me at Walter Reed, I was in pretty bad shape. The knife, it had gone into my spine, part of my central nervous system. I spent most of my time pretty out of it. They had me in fogs of drugs, induced comas, suspended in healing baths. When I would come out enough, I would look for your mail. I kept seeing I was getting farther and farther behind. Eventually you stopped.

"I realized, the only way I could ever hope to get you back was some sort of grand gesture, a beau geste. So, I went to basic. Then on to OCS. I even took that silly Science school. I've been trying to figure out how to tell you, but you always seem so busy. What if you didn't want me back? You stopped writing. You seemed to have taken up with James." David explained.

"You want me back?" I asked.

"More than anything. I will always love you." David replied.

I didn't see the point in replying. I walked across the room, took his face in my hands and kissed him. Long and hard.

He put his arms around me. I won't say much more, but I will say the bed in his quarters didn't need to be made the next day and the refresher in my quarters had to work extra hard. We never did get to that pot of tea.

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	34. Chapter 34

**Star Trek Lost Destiny**

**By Hemaccabe**

**Book I: Race of Death**

**Chapter 34: More Family**

**ALL RIGHTS RESERVED**

The next morning, I awoke to find my bed empty. I was a bit disappointed. Did this mean David was only really looking for a brief dalliance? Was it just a gesture to comfort me when I was upset?

Just as I was wondering, David snuck back through my door with a sack.

"Oh, you're awake, I had hoped to catch you before you did."

"Why?" I asked.

David answered confusingly, "I brought you presents."

"Presents?" I asked still confused.

"Well, we've been apart for over three years. It's normal in human cultures to give a present or two at certain times. I was saving them up." David explained.

"Okay." It still didn't make sense, but human culture frequently did not make sense to me. I had just learned to accept it.

David continued to explain, "I noticed you lost some stuff on Grissom. I thought I might be able to get you some replacements."

I thought he was talking about things like my field jacket. I was about to stop him and explain I could draw replacements for such things from ship's stores.

Then he reached into the sack and brought out a sharp rock.

"This isn't as good as a Chuntarth bone fossil, but I hope you like it. This is a megalodon tooth. I dug it up myself on my first paleontology expedition. It was the first significant fossil I ever unearthed."

Then he gave it to me. It was sweet. I put it on my nightstand.

Then he reached into the bag again.

"This isn't as good as that nifty Vulcan-make cooler bag, with it's super-high Vulcan tech, but it's the cooler bag I brought on all those paleontology expeditions I had to go on to get my degrees. I just had the power cell replaced so it should be good for another twenty years."

Then he gave me his cooler bag.

"Lastly, I told my Mom about that doll you kept. She gave me this antique doll she got as a little girl. It's called an 'American Girl Doll Rebecca.' It doesn't make up for the one you lost, but maybe it will help."

Then he pulled a doll out that, other than the ears, could be the spitting image of the one I had lost. Wearing the same midnight blue felt with argent starburst dress and handed it to me. I felt like I wouldn't want to ever set it down.

Of course, then we had to go back to bed again.

We finally dragged ourselves out of bed and returned to our duty and the world of the living.

Strangely, as I let go of David's hand so he could go get himself sorted in his own quarters, I felt, as a member of a couple, stronger to face the questions about my parents.

I now knew who my parents were. I knew I had been dumped to the streets at age three. I didn't know which of them could have done such a thing, but Spock's story seemed to have more verisimilitude. He was the one who had dug me up off the streets, taken me home and done the best he could raising me. Perhaps he had made many mistakes, but most parents make many mistakes. I was a difficult child, scarred by years on the street, far different than any Vulcan parent would have been prepared for. He had also done a lot right.

I might be willing to have some sort of relationship with my Mother, though I had decades of built up desire to kill my Romulan parent I would have to set aside. Whatever relationship we had would NOT be predicated on me betraying my oath of duty and stealing a Starship for her.

I sent my long suffering first officer to get some rest as we had a noon general meeting and it was already nine. She looked at David and gave me a sly smile. She seemed happy for me.

Noon came and my senior officers and I repaired to the conference room on Deck B. We needed to review the current state of the ship.

When we were all present and had our food, Peter got up and activated the view screen. He started sorting through images of the damage. It was ugly but could have been worse.

"To begin with good news," Peter started, "it could have been much worse. The Romulan ship, for whatever reason, seemed to only be armed with two batteries of antique plasma guns. If those had been state of the art Klingon disruptors, we'd be having a much grimmer discussion.

"We ended up taking three hits. Two hit our unshielded nose and one after shields had been raised.

"The K-alloy responded remarkably well. If we had a typical diburnium hull, this would also be a much grimmer conversation. Those plasma cannons probably would have blasted some deep holes.

"However, we have now learned something about K-alloy hulls for future Starships that may enjoy this innovation. While, the K-alloy hull did survive the hits remarkably well, they did not absorb concussive energy in the way diburnium would have. While diburnium would have failed far more dramatically, it would have also absorbed a great deal more energy and protected interior systems better, assuming it wasn't completely compromised. The K-alloy stayed much more intact but transferred far more kinetic concussive damage to internal systems."

Peter switched the screen to a list.

"I have distributed a list of all the damage to all of you. The highlights include a node of the AN/SPY-1 system was destroyed. The shields have been degraded. AEGIS remains partially offline. Several areas on B and C deck have been exposed to vacuum, including the science lab. The life support system also had issues."

I interrupted, "The life support system? That's in the secondary hull?"

Peter nodded sheepishly and answered, "Yes, but our closed cell hydroponic system didn't like the shaking. We did have the tanks bolted and strapped down, so they didn't just float off, but the life support systems still didn't like losing gravity. They also didn't like the kinetic shock. The crew is not in danger, but efficiency is definitely reduced for the time being. We have restored gravity to normal in the life support chamber and, unless something else comes up, they should resume normal function in a few days.

"While many of the minor failures can be repaired in flight from stores or locally produced parts, there are some we'll need help for.

"The second big thing we learned was that when the K-alloy gets seriously damaged, we don't have tools on hand that can repair it. It's so much harder than diburnium. Our diburnium repair tools are inadequate to repair K-alloy. We also are finding that we lack access to many areas to make repairs and can't access them because there are K-alloy bulkheads in the way.

"I'm afraid I have to recommend return to space dock to complete repairs." Peter finished and sat down.

We discussed it for some time. But the consensus remained return to space dock. We did have our own personal space dock.

Peter added, "During transit, I'll work on a plan for reworking the hull to make things work better."

"Isn't reworking the hull like rebuilding the ship?" I asked incredulously.

Peter responded matter-of-factly, "Yes, but it's necessary. Ticonderoga is a prototype. We tried to build her to take these things into account, but we missed some stuff. If we want it to work, if we want to be able to produce more ships like it, we have to fix these issues.

"Still, since this ship was built as a prototype, she's designed to be taken apart quickly and fixed."

"How long will all this take?" I asked suspiciously.

"A few months." Peter replied.

I think some of my response came from the guilt I felt. I felt like teenager who had wrecked the family speeder. I could have raised shields earlier; it would have just cost Ruark his life. I'm sure his Mother would approve of my choice. Still, if crew had been killed? There had been some good bumps and burns.

I sent in a written message to CinC RSE DNZ to let him know the bad news. I included a copy of Peter's report.

He replied quickly in writing, "Sorry to hear about that. We'll miss having you out here. Glad things weren't worse. You took some big hits. I was going to have to send you back to Sol anyway. James Winter and you were both awarded the Karagite Order of Heroism for your actions during the first terrorist attack. You have also been awarded a cluster for your Grankite Order for your actions during the space battle. Civilian Ruark has been awarded a Star Fleet Citation for Conspicuous Gallantry. Lastly, your ship, Ticonderoga, has been awarded a Commendation for the actions taken at Coridan. The government of Coridan has extended their Legion of Gratitude to Ticonderoga as well. You can let Mr. Preston know his Cochrane Medal of Excellence for his work in the design and building of that ship has finally come through. Please pass by Starbase 3 on your way back down to Sol and pick up some return traffic."

Ruark dropped by and asked to speak to me.

"I'd like to come with you back down to Sol. Is that okay?" He asked.

I looked at him and pretended to think, then I said, "It's not normal procedure for a Star Fleet vessel to accept non-paying civilian passengers," then I waited several moments to enjoy Ruark looking nervous before I continued, "but of course. What are your plans?"

Ruark bobbed his head for a bit and then said, "Well, Williams doesn't want me back."

"Why, you were doing so well for them?" I asked surprised.

"Well, they saw how, if something did happen to my ship, they wouldn't have an auto-beam out in there. It would be really bad press for them if I died. They're already under a lot of pressure to sell out to a concern that could make the team more competitive. So being perpetually in last place is bad enough. If they had a pilot die like that, it could be the last straw." Ruark explained.

"Will any other team pick you up?" I asked.

"Only Williams was crazy enough to take me on with my height. Maybe if I'd finished much higher in a race or two, but I never really got the chance. So, my F1 career seems over, at least for the time being." Ruark explained.

"I am really sorry to hear that." I said, then got up and went to him to give him a hug.

"Girl, don't worry. I got a lot of other options." Ruark said with bluff good cheer. Still, I noticed he accepted the hug.

So, I sat back down and asked, "Then what's the next step?"

"Well, you know I did that optional basic thing a while back?" He asked.

"Of course." I replied.

Optional Basic was a Star Fleet program designed to entice potential recruits in by allowing them to process Basic Training without requiring them to make a commitment. The potential recruit would get to see what life in Star Fleet was like and, having already finished one of the most difficult steps in completing Basic, hopefully would then enlist.

Some, like Ruark, would do it just to show his many Star Fleet enlisted friends and family members that he had what it took to be in Star Fleet and then go do something else, like pursue his career in racing.

"Don't laugh, I have my college degree, I thought now I could go on to OCS and Helm School." Ruark said.

I blinked. Kept a straight face and said, "That would be very logical. It will go well with the fact that you have already been awarded the Star Fleet Citation for Conspicuous Gallantry."

Ruark blinked and said, "No BLEEP."

"I'm afraid so. You impressed a lot of people with your execution of that maneuver in the battle." I explained.

Ruark regathered himself, leaned back in his chair, cocked his head in confident way, then said, "Of course, I did," in a very self-satisfied way.

After Ruark left my office I sent a written comm to Admiral Kirk which said, essentially, "First dibs on Ruark."

We topped off on fuel even though we didn't need it. Supporting the fuel depot at Coridan was a Federation imperative. All Star Fleet vessels passing through were required to do so.

I had Crewman Sharm come to my office.

He came in. He looked nervous.

I stood and gestured to a seat, "Please sit."

He sat. I remained standing. That was a trick Spock had taught me.

"So, you took a ferry down to Coridan against my express orders?" I asked unnecessarily.

He nodded. Then added, "I tried not to. I couldn't avoid it."

I had actually reviewed the security footage. Sharm had gotten stuck in a huge mass of people and been shoved into the ferry. It was the reason I was inclined to be lenient.

I nodded and said as sternly as I could, "Consider yourself demoted one step in rank. You will be given additional duties by your superior officer. You will not get shore leave at our next shore leave destination. That is all. Dismissed."

Sharm looked up surprised. "I'm not getting kicked out of the service. Sent to a penal colony?"

I tilted my head and looked at him, "I had not intended those consequences, but if you would prefer?"

"On no Ma'am!" Sharm replied.

"Then return to duty." I ordered.

Sharm hopped up, "Yes Ma'am. Right away Ma'am."

Then he was on his way.

Afterward, we went back to Starbase 3 and gave the crew some much needed shore leave on Rae's Planet. I went down with Kiki and Rachel and picked up some soap, reams of cloth for my duty uniform if I wanted to make more. We had a last meal at that chicken stick place. The ship picked up some new provisions that would have to tide us over to Sol space. The atmosphere swap out helped our tired life support.

I also had a new formal dress tunic coat made from real cloth and fitted. It felt and looked lovely.

We then picked up a cargo of return parcels and began our cruise back down to Sol system.

We decided to revive an old tradition. Before Enterprise's Five-Year Mission, every post and ship had their own proud insignia worn on their uniform. As a tribute to the amazing success of the Five-Year Mission, Star Fleet had adopted Enterprise's trefoil for all posts.

We still honored Enterprise but decided to be cheeky.

We created a little silhouette of an ancient gunpowder cannon, pointing left and replaced the trefoil with it on Ticonderoga's uniforms.

Peter looked at his uniform with the cannon silhouette and said, "Lady Tico is getting mighty independent. Her own uniform and now her own badge."

"Lady Tico?" I asked.

"It seems the Romulan Commander has given us a nickname and it's sticking." Peter explained.

"Can we do anything about it?" I asked.

"Enjoy it?" Peter asked.

I supposed I would have to.

As we travelled down to Sol, I had time to think and consider. I realized; I now loved my little ship, Lady Tico. Yes, an Excelsior would be grander, with more amazing facilities. However, this little ship was small enough we would all know each other's names. Spend time with each other. See each other in the corridors.

Ticonderoga was fast, she was tough, but she was also smart.

She was where David was. She was where Rachel and Kiki were. She was where the people I cared about most were. She was my home and I did have the family I had always wanted.

If they wanted me to transfer off to an Excelsior, they could keep it. This was my ship now and I would never give her up.

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